Delicately
by nebulousMaddy
Summary: "His soul sleeps inside, sealed away with dark magics. Witch magics. Unable to wake, unable to synchronize his soul with another's, unable to change back to his human form." Lord Death calls him Fullmetal.
1. Awaken

**Pfff. Just an idea that I had.**

**Unclaimer: Maddy owns and gains nothing.**

* * *

_A swift prologue_:

"Hey, Spirit?"

"Yes Lord Death?"

"I feel like we may have forgotten an important detail in Maka and Soul's mission."

"..."

"Don't freak out too bad, now, Spirit! They're lively children who should be able to figure it out!"

"MAKAAAA!"

"I said _don't_ freak out, Spirit. You're doing the _opposite_ of what I asked!"

* * *

_Delicately_

The mission was simple: go to the dingy little town in western Germany, collect some ancient scythe of Lord Death's, bring it to the DWMA, receive extra credit for the semester.

Yes, there was not a thing to it. Save for the fact that said dingy little town was something of a labyrinth and the scythe was nowhere to be found. Maka had asked around, poured over the town's personal history books in the local library, poured over the general history books in the local library, wandered through the streets with her (useless) partner, Soul, in tow for hours, yet, still, her search came up dry. The meister and weapon in training had exactly one week to complete the mission; they left on Sunday and where expected to return on the very next at the latest, no later than two-thirty in the afternoon, when the sun was at its seasonal highest.

Maka checked her planner for the umpteenth time that day; it was already Wednesday.

"It's also about time for lunch, Maka," Soul said after Maka had finished yet another rant about how ridiculous their mission was turning out to be and how they were wasting their time. She grumbled sourly. Leave it to Soul to think about his stomach when they should be thinking about completing the mission. She turned to snap at him, but the look he had stopped her. She wouldn't have described it as worry on his face, but it was obvious that he was only thinking of her when he suggested they take a break. Soul always new how to not be stressed, didn't he? Her glower faded and she gave him a week smile.

"Yeah, okay," She wasn't very hungry, but maybe a cup of tea and a chance to sit down and sort through what little information she had collected would help. Soul gave her his usual shark toothed grin.

"Great! I saw a café that was serving that tea you like not too far away," he said, pointing down the street. "I think they also served cakes. Cake sounds good right now." He had turned mid sentence and started walking off in the direction that he previously pointed in, mind obviously set on the (admittedly delicious) German-style cakes. Maka let out a small sigh. He may have been thinking mostly of her, but food was still a priority on his list. She cracked a tiny grin and shook her head.

"Soul, wait up!" She jogged to catch up with her hungry weapon.

The meister and weapon sat across from each other in the café, the first drinking her tea delicately while reading a book she picked up in a book store about the ancient lore that surrounded the town and the latter was contentedly inhaling his third chocolate torte.

"Hey Soul?"

"Mhmf?" Maka made a sour face, but at least Soul wasn't opening his mouth.

"Why do you think Lord Death hid a weapon here anyway? I mean, yeah, this place is pretty low key, but it's nowhere near any of the Branches and so out of the way of any major cities that getting here is almost impossible." Then again, they were talking about the same Lord Death who thought it was a good idea to hide a very important piece of the Demon Tool in an ever-moving train in the Sahara desert.

"Well if you're trying to hide something, it sounds like a pretty good place to me," Soul replied. "Besides, taking the feel of the place into account, some ancient looking scythe would blend in pretty nicely with the gothic Transylvanian look this town's got."

"What is it with you and architecture?" Maka asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well what's with you and books?" Soul shot back. Maka gave him a warning look. "B-besides, architecture is cool."

"I don't get it," Maka deadpanned.

"Well I don't get what's so great about books so we're even," Soul said, shoveling more cake into his mouth. A man walked up to the table and tapped it for their attention. Maka and Soul blinked owlishly up at him. He was quite old, with tanned, leathery skin, very little hair, and somewhat grimy looking farmer's clothes.

"Wei bitte?" he asked.

Soul said, "Bless you." just as Maka asked, "Pardon me?" Maka glared at her partner and the elderly man laughed.

"Hallo, young ones!" he rasped out, smiling wide."You look for die scythe, ja?"

"Y-yeah, how did you know?" Maka wondered.

"I hear. You speak of old scythe who sleeps in die church, ja?"

"It's in the church? After all that searching it was right in front us?! Why is it in a church?" Maka was pleased and pissed at the same time; the two didn't go well together.

"Old heirloom, mein fräulein. Mein family watches it for many years. He rests in back room, away from thieves."

"Oh, I see," Maka said, standing. "Sir, my name is Maka Albarn, Scythe Master in training at the DWMA-er...There's a lot of people here, could we go somewhere more quiet?" Some of the other café-goers were giving them strange looks. Apparently tourists weren't all that common.

"Ja, ja. You come to church and see him, yes?"

Maka looked over at Soul, who was giving the man a rather cold look. He looked up at her and shrugged. It was her call, it seemed.

"Yes, we'll come take a look," she nodded to the man for good measure. He seemed harmless enough; there wasn't anything off about his soul as far as she could tell. Maka just wondered how they could have such a stroke of luck. Soul stood up next to her.

"I'll go pay quick," he said before walking to the front counter.

"Let's go outside to wait," Maka suggested, pointing to the door. The old man nodded with a smile. Once outside, she turned to him.

"Alright. As you know I'm Maka Albarn of the Death Weapon Meister Academy. My partner Soul and I are here searching for a specific scythe that we are to bring back to Lord Death."

"Ja, ja. Death needs his scythe, no?" the man nodded. "Mein family keeps it safe for Herr Death-" he pulled a chain attached to a key ring out of his front pocket that has Death's mask on it.-"He entrusted my family with it after the first fall of Arachne, after it lost its Meister. With Madness in die air, I see why he wants it."

"So you work for the DWMA too?" Soul asked the question as he walked up, noting the pin.

"Ja, I received word that kinders from Amerika would take it." The answer seemed to relax Soul a bit, though Maka could tell he was still on edge. He was about as antisocial as he was hungry, it seemed. "I have looked out for you for past days, but young ones are hard to find when they move about." The students glanced at each other then to the old man sheepishly.

"If we had known, we would have found you immediately," Soul said, shrugging. Maka nodded.

"Hmm, I was told you would know where to meet me. When you did not show, I searched. It is small town; not to worry," the old man waved off her apology.

"Nobody told us we were supposed to meet with you," Maka said, looking surprised. Leave it to Lord Death to leave out important details. Maka mentally ground her teeth together in frustration.

"Not to worry!" he repeated with a smile. "I am Franz, by the way. It is a pleasure to meet you! Now, we go to church, ja!"

"Yes, lets!" Maka said, the fresh feeling of a new mission returning to her with the sudden turn of events. "C'mon Soul!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm right behind you," Soul sauntered after them, not really making an effort to catch up.

The church was small and made of bricks that where probably a nice red color at one point, but had long since faded to grey. Stained glass windows illustrated Lord Death and his great deeds and the alter was decorated with a single, cracked mask of Death's, one from before the foundation of the DWMA.

"Welcome to our humble church," Franz said, looking around fondly. Soul whistled softly.

"Quite the church," Soul murmured. Maka nodded in agreement. It definitely had some of the Transylvanian flare that Soul had been talking about. Franz motioned for the students to follow him.

"He is in the back room," Franz said, pointing to a door behind the alter. It was painted the same color as the wall, making it hard to see. Franz pulled the same old key ring from earlier out of his pocket and flicked through the many keys, locating a smaller, bronze one. He then shoved it into the key hole of the door, gave it a twist and a good shake, then opened the door.

The room was dark and somewhat musty. Maka squinted into the gloom from the doorway, trying to make out the shapes of furniture or perhaps the scythe. Franz stepped past them and flicked on a light. There was a long table attached to the wall on the far left with an black wooden stool sitting under it. Many different polishing tools and products were scattered about on the table, which was long enough to reach the wall that had the door on it as well as the wall opposite to it. There was a large padlocked, wooden box in the center of the room that looked like it was resting on an old stone slab. It was painted black and its top reached Maka's waist-just tall enough for someone to open comfortably and see every inside without straining themselves or moving around. Aside from the box and table, there was no other furniture in the room. Franz walked up to the box and began flicking through the keys again, this time pulling out a long iron one. He bent down slightly, grabbing the padlock. A twist and jiggle of the key had the padlock unclasped. Franz removed it and set it down on the table before unhooking a small latch and opening the box.

"Here he is!" Franz chirped happily. "Mein family keeps him clean and comfortable, no?" Maka peered in curiously. Soul remained further back, watching the door.

The scythe was a bit larger than Soul was when he was in scythe form-it was completely made of iron. The handle was black with what looked like sheepskin leather wrapped around the middle, where the user would have held it. Upon closer inspection, Maka noticed many intricate carvings on the handle, all filled with gold. There were many cracks and scars in both the handle and blade; the deeper ones were filled with gold as well. There were three little spikes on the head of the blade, where it attached to the pole, and there was a somewhat familiar insignia painted in red underneath them. On the very end of the pole, there was a small loop that had two chains attached to it, which were neatly coiled around the perimeter of the box, which Maka was somewhat surprised to find was padded like a high-end coffin.

"Why do you keep calling it a he?" Soul asked. "It's just a weapon."

"Just a weapon?" Franz asked incredulously. "He is like you, boy! A man with soul and body who sleeps in die scythe."

"But, if it's as old as Lord Death says then..." Maka trailed off, not knowing how to or wanting to finish her question.

"How is he still here?" Franz finished for her, thankfully not using the words 'dead' or 'corpse' or any other word that would have made Maka imagine the worst things possible happening to her partner. "His soul sleeps inside, sealed away with dark magics. Witch magics. Unable to wake, unable to synchronize his soul with another's, unable to change back to his human form."

"That's really creepy," Soul stated, a somewhat disgusted look on his face. Maka gulped, a whole new plethora of scenarios that she didn't want to think about wormed into her mind.

"Not even Lord Death could fix him?" Maka asked, feeling sort of depressed.

"Nein. Only two people could handle such a powerful soul-even when he was made into a Death Scythe, keeping up with his power was difficult," Franz said.

"Who were the two? Death and his original Meister?" Soul questioned, walking closer to stand next to Maka. She took his hand in her's.

"Ja, perhaps his partner could have woken him up, but he was killed in the same battle that left this one here buried away in this form," Franz shook his head sadly. "To lose a partner who was also a brother, he may not wake for a reason all his own."

"Do you know his name?" Maka asked, turning to Franz.

"I do not know his given name, but Herr Death liked to call him der Fullmetal," Franz informed her.

"Fullmetal," Maka repeated softly. She stepped closer to the Death Scythe, letting Soul's hand fall from her's.

"Maka..."Soul said warningly. "If you do something stupid and I have to carry you back to our room..."

"It's fine," Maka replied. "I just want to see..."

She reached out and placed her hand lightly on the staff, looking for any trace of a soul. She didn't know the sleeping weapon's wavelength, though. There was really no way to reach his soul unless there was some sort of a connection, like when she was able to synchronize herself with Chrona. There was no doubt that there was a soul though; there would be no weapon if there wasn't. She reached out with her own soul, eyes closed, heart searching, grasping at nothing. She waded through blackness for a moment, trying desperately to find the little light that a wandering, lost soul would emanate like a sad cry for help... There! She looked around in the blackness, sensing something, but she wasn't sure what. She looked again and, for a moment, she felt the smallest of pulses. She urged her own soul to follow, to call out, but she was shocked away when what was definitely an old but still very lively vex snapped at her, hissing and snapping angrily. A bright "NO TRESPASSING" sign, oddly modern, flashed in her mind. Maka let out a rather embarrassing sounding squeak and fell backwards, only to be caught immediately by Soul, who had been hovering next to her.

"Fräuline, you are unhurt, ja?" Franz asked quickly, looking worried. Soul gave Maka a slight shake.

"Hey! Maka?! Are you okay?" He gripped her shoulders tightly from behind, letting her lean against him as they both sank to the floor.

"Uhnn..." Maka groaned unhappily and grabbed her head. "You were right, Soul. That was a bad idea."

"Idiot," he said, sounding relieved. She turned to look at Soul, giving him what she hoped was a goofy grin and not a grimace.

"Thanks for catching me," she said.

"I won't if you try that again, but you're welcome anyway," he replied.

"No worries," Maka ground out, finding that turning her head only made it hurt worse. "I'm not gonna do that again any time soon."

"Good," Soul stated. "Can you stand?"

"Y-yeah, I think," Maka rose shakily to her feet, leaning on her partner for support. The world swayed beneath her drunkenly.

"How about we go to my place for drinks, ja?" Franz offered, looking over Maka nervously. "You will feel better then, of course."

"Sounds like a plan," Soul said. "C'mon Maka, we'll get you something to drink, 'kay?"

"Yeah okay," she mumbled, drooping so low she was practically hanging off Soul. "I don' think I can walk there though." She could feel Soul say something, the way his chest seemed to reverberate slightly, a garbled echo of words coming from it, and how his jaw moved against her arm, which was slung over his shoulder. Hearing him was becoming difficult, though, like someone had stuffed cotton in her ears and stuck her in a stuffy room-Soul sounded far away and rather garbled.

"Maka?" she managed to hear him say. "Maka!" She tried to say something back, something good-humored; let them she was okie-dori, in good spirits, all that. Nothing came though. Maka watched in some sort of exhausted fascination as the world swam out of focus then disappeared altogether in a tunnel of black.

* * *

When she awoke, she was surprised to find a pastel pink fan rotating lazily above her. It had delicate little roses painted neatly on each blade. Since when did such a girly fan exist in her room? ...No, wait. That wasn't right. She was in Germany with Soul and they were living in a small inn on the edge of town. She was pretty sure that their room didn't have a pink ceiling fan though. In fact, she was pretty sure that they didn't have a fan in their room at all. Cheap rooms never come with simple luxuries; Maka was pretty sure her mother had told her that at one point.

So, where was she again?

Maka attempted sitting up, noting that the soft sheets covering her were of the same sweet pink. A heavy quilt (handmade, if she wasn't mistaken) was draped over the sheets. Though dizzy when sitting up, she was able to get a good look around the room. The theme was clearly 'pink'. There were dainty little roses painted around a small, shuttered window to her left, underneath which was a victorian style dresser with gold-painted knobs, and to her right was a wooden door that might have been cedar if Maka actually cared to examine the wood and find out.

Directly next to her was a little night stand made of the same material as the dresser. It had a fresh glass of water on it, still perspiring and filled with ice. A vacant chair was also next to the bed, though it looked very out of place.

"Maka, you're awake," Maka turned to the door, where Soul was standing with a small plate of finger sandwiches. "How do you feel? You're not hurt are you? Do you want a sandwich?"

"Haha, no I don't want a sandwich. I am okay though. Just a bit dizzy," Maka replied. Soul took seat in the chair and nodded to the glass of water.

"That's for you," he said. "It may help." Maka nodded and took the cool glass from the table, holding it carefully with both hands, which were still a bit shaky with exhaustion. She took a small sip, enjoying the way the cool water ran down her dry throat. She placed the glass back on the side-table and leaned back into the plush pillows of the bed, deciding that she sort of liked how girly and frilly the room was. It certainly wasn't her taste, but it had a warm feeling to it, like many good memories where stored away in every corner.

"So what happened?" she asked Soul. "Where are we?"

"We're at Franz's house and this is his daughter's room," Soul said with a glance around. He had a small wrinkle in his nose, the only sign of his dislike for all the frill. "I was actually about to ask you what happened." He turned his burgundy eyes to her olive ones, giving her a serious look.

"Um, well I wanted to see if there was a soul in Fullmetal or not but I got shocked by an old vex," Maka said, recalling the sign. "Then you caught me and then I woke up here."

"Yeah, I had to carry you back," Soul stated, then smirked. "You know for someone with such a flat chest you sure do weight a lot." Maka narrowed her eyes and glared at Soul. Where the hell was her book? She was looking around for it when Soul continued on.

"So did you find anything?" he inquired, all business again. Maka nodded.

"It was only for a second, but I definitely sensed a soul in there," Maka said, suddenly feeling a bit excited. "Maybe we could try to get him out, Soul! Wouldn't that be cool?"

"Let's not," the wrinkle was back. "I don't like that scythe. Plus didn't Franz say that it may not have changed back for a different reason?"

"Oh yeah...his brother who was killed," Maka nodded. It was sort of a shame though. To be trapped in that form with no contact for centuries, wondering if your partner was safe or dead, probably having no real perception of time, if he was conscious at all... She shook her head, not liking the train of thought.

"We'll see what Lord Death has to say on the matter when we get back. Maybe the reason that he wanted us to get the scythe in the first place is because he found a solution."

"That could be!" Maka said, smiling. It was a long shot and probably not the case, but hope was a good thing to have.

"Anyway, once you're feeling better we'll head back to the inn to get our stuff, then we can get the hell outta here and back to Death City," Soul said, giving her one of his shark grins.

"I'm not looking forward to the treck back," Maka grumbled. As she had said earlier, the little town was well out of the way. So out of the way, in fact, that the cab they hired wouldn't take them all the way out.

"You'll live," Soul stated, leaning back in the chair. What a hypocrite; he had complained about having to walk just as much as she had-though she was the one who threatened the cabbie.

"Whatever," Maka grumbled, rolling her eyes. Soul laughed softly and reached forward to ruffle her bangs.

"Get some sleep," he told her.

"Yeah, okay," Maka murmured back, closing her eyes. She listened to the sound of Soul standing and walking out of the room, his footsteps soft on the hardwood, even with his boots on. The door creaked closed and clicked shut. Maka opened her eyes again to watch the door, wondering where her partner was going. She sort of wished she had asked him to stay, his presence her only real comfort in the new setting, but she resigned herself, knowing that she was as safe as she could be at the moment.

_Besides,_ she thought, _he's not far away._

* * *

Apparently, at some point, Maka had dozed off. When she woke again the sun was setting. It's spikes were drooping sloppily and it struggled to keep its eyes open. Maka leaned out the window of her temporary room, watching it sink. Some part of her wondered what would happen if the string of drool hanging from its mouth were to fall to Earth. She spent a moment imagining all the natural disasters that could occur if the sun actually _did_ drool on the earth, but was shaken out of her musings by the sound of the door opening.

"Hey sleeping beauty," Soul greeted, entering the room. "Nice nap?"

"Yeah, actually," Maka replied, rolling her eyes with a smile. "Didn't think I'd sleep so long though. I hope I didn't cause anyone any trouble." She glanced Soul, noticing for the first time the duffel bags he was carrying. One was hers and the other his.

"Naw. To be honest, a sleeping Maka is _way_ easier to handle than an awake-" Soul was cut off when Maka threw a book she grabbed off the dresser at him. The book slid down his face and tumbled to the floor, landing in a sad pile of binding and pages.

"Rude," she stated, eyeing her partner with distaste. Upon recovery, Soul grumbled to himself about flat chested, short tempered girls who need to stay in bed and not be a nuisance as he tossed their luggage into a corner. Maka walked over to the other side of the room and picked up the book. As he turned she smacked him the face with it, broad side.

"Say again?" she asked sweetly, holding the book to his red cheek so that he would face her.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" Soul ground out, shoving the book away and rubbing his face angrily.

"Well you're a gluttonous slack-off, so I guess we're even," Maka retorted. The two lazed around in the room, bickering good-naturedly, until there was a nock at the door. It was Franz.

"Hallo, young ones!" he stepped into the doorway, smiling at them. "I have made German special of Bratkartoffeln for you!" Upon the blank stares of either teen, Franz attempted to elaborate:

"Ah, potatoes and meat?" he tried, scratching his head. Soul lit up like a lantern and Maka was a bit surprised to discover that she was actually very much starving. Of course, her last 'meal' had been a cup of tea a bit before noon and they were now pushing 7 o'clock, based on the Sun's whereabouts in the sky...

Yeah, she could eat.

After a rather late dinner, Maka and Soul began discussing plans for their trip back. The scythe was still in the church, unmoved, waiting to be brought to its new home in Shibusen. Franz had insisted that the teens spend their final night in town at his house instead of the inn, which had been why Soul had their luggage (he had checked out of the inn and picked it up during her second nap). It was actually more convenient that way anyway; they could sleep in and fetch the scythe when they were good and ready and they wouldn't have to worry about meeting up with Franz again, who had even offered to bring them to the next town in his (old, very old and very vintage) automobile. From there, a rep from the DWMA would pick them up and bring them back to the academy. The situation had done a 180 and Maka did not think that she could be more pleased.

...Okay, 'pleased' was the wrong word.

There was no room in the very old, very vintage automobile, which was a Volkswagon Beetle, one of the original designs, according to Soul. It had no backseat so Franz, Maka, and Soul where all thoroughly cramped on the one bench seat up front. Soul was a lucky asshole and got the window seat, leaving Franz at the wheel and Maka smushed in the middle, holding Fullmetal at an extremely awkward angle so the entire scythe would actually fit in the tiny car. (Logic states that tying objects to the roofs of vehicles when they do not fit inside is the best option, but that is usually not so with a very large, very dangerous weapon.)

At least she didn't have to carry the old scythe; solid iron was heavy.

"Soul, move over a bit," Maka demanded.

"No can do; I'm completely against the window," Soul growled in reply. "Maybe if you weren't such a fatty..."

"I will _hurt_ you," Maka hissed. She was the scythe master. She was holding the scythe. Heads would roll if she did not have at least an inch more room.

"There's no room for you to do that," Soul said. Franz looked completely oblivious to their annoyance.

"I'll _make_ room," Maka insisted.

"You are just like mein grandchildren," Franz said, smiling fondly. "You bicker like cats and dogs in das auto but play so nice once out of it." The teens quieted, not knowing how to respond to the statement. Maka looked to fill the sudden silence.

"There's the inn," she said, glancing at the building as they passed it. It was on the very edge of town; nothing but gently rolling hills and green pastures were beyond it.

"Wait, what is that?" Soul gasped.

"What's what?" Maka questioned, trying to see around him. Franz pulled into the little parking lot, angling the vehicle so they cold all see. There was a gaping hole on the side of the building, as if a bulldoser crashed into it, but only once in one specific spot.

"That was our room," Maka whispered. Was somebody after them?

"We will go now," Franz said, turning the Volkswagon around. "You need to be made safe."

"No, wait!" Maka cried, squirming in her seat. "There could be people in there who are hurt!" She reached for the wheel, only to be grabbed by Soul.

"It's not a good idea, Maka," he said. "Besides, if anyone was hurt, they've probably been taken to a hospital by now."

"But..." Maka trailed off, knowing Soul was right.

"Whatever did that could still be around," Soul continued. "so we gotta get back to the DWMA before it finds us, since we seem to be what it's after."

Maka tried to turn her head, survey the damage one last time before it was out of sight, but there wasn't enough room for her to move. Instead she ended up face to face with Soul, their noses where almost touching.

"It's fine, Maka," he said.

"If whatever did that tries to kill us, I'm going to beat the tar out of it," she said, dead serious.

"I'll make sure you get a good punch in," Soul said.

Nobody spoke after that.

They continued down the road, bodies cramped in the vehicle and minds cramped with worried thoughts. What did that? Who was after them? They had left so quickly that there was no time to question anyone, let alone investigate. Maka's stomach churned uncomfortably.

The hours stretched on lazily. The high-noon sun began to slink towards the horizon, a nervous look plastered on it's usually mirthful face. Maka rested her head on Soul's shoulder, watching it edge towards the dimming tree line in the distance. The sky was blood red and grey clouds stretched across the sky. _Altostratus clouds,_ Maka recognized. They looked like scales. She thought about snakes.

She must have dozed. Maybe Soul dozed too. The rickety car lurched to a halt so suddenly that the passengers where thrown violently into their seat-belts. Soul had a glazed expression for a moment, like he couldn't figure out what was happening, before struggling to get himself upright, turning to Maka. She watched him dazedly as he turned towards her, mind a-fuzz with static, dreams of bogey men and snake pits still lingering at the front of her conscious. It took her a moment to register that he was talking, no, shouting at...not her; he was looking out the windshield. She followed his gaze and ignored the aching in her chest and collar bone.

The hood of the vehicle was dented badly, like something far too big had jumped on it. The end of Fullmetal's handle was going through the windshield, leaving a spiderweb of cracks extending from it like a broken halo. Franz was slumped over, unconscious. Soul's bright eyes were looking out beyond the wreckage though; she looked up.

Several feet in front of the car was...a man, maybe? He was short, round as a pumpkin, and two bright red eyes gleamed in his shadowed silhouette. His head skewed to the side curiously, gleaming eyes watching the weapon meister pare. Maka and Soul shared a quick glance before climbing slowly out of the car. The little man didn't seem to notice though, his eyes were trained on the car.

"Hey!" Maka called out. She was about to question the newcomer, when he cracked a nasty smile, red sunlight glinted off his square teeth, beady eyes feral.

"It's there, right? I can eat it, right?" He crouched a bit, his little legs almost disappearing under his mass and his hands outstretched. "Lust said I could eat it! I'm _so_ hungry!"

He let out a shrill squeal and lunged for the car. Maka felt the familiar weight of her weapon appear in her hand and she reacted. Like a baseball player she used the broad end of the scythe like a bat, slamming into the man's midsection. She grunted as she pushed him back the other way, sending him toppling into the ground. He let out a sad cry, standing up shakily.

"That hurt!" he whimpered. "Maybe I should eat you first so you don't do that again." He finally looked over to Maka, who froze. Where was his soul? She sensed..._something_, at first believing it to be a Kishin egg, but now, she realized it was not a soul. He felt like a Kishin, but the essence was different. There was an off-ness to his not-Kishin absent soul. She dared to prod closer and stiffened. Many souls. Many, many souls. All writhing and tumbling inside that, that..._thing_. It wasn't human, it wasn't a Kishin, it wasn't anything she had felt before. It was very fucking wrong.

"Maka..." Soul warned, snapping her out of her terror. The thing was moving toward the duo slowly, like it wasn't quite sure how safe it would be.

"Right," she ground out. "I don't like this. Not one bit." She sank into a fighting stance, scythe at the ready, poised to strike lest the monster try anything. She was surprised by how fast it could move with those stubby legs.

It was in the air above her, eyes gleaming, large hands aiming for her head. She swung upward with Soul, arms crossing over one another, blocking the creature from sinking its teeth into the soft flesh of her neck. It halted the monster, who stood in front of her, arms swinging by its sides while it gnawed gently on the length of her weapon's handle, like a baby exploring a new toy. Maka heard Soul utter a disgusted "Oh my fucking God." She was paralyzed for a moment, the creature's vacant, beady eyes locked on her bright ones.

There was a soft whining sound from the back of the monster's throat. Its eyes seemed to widen and a smile formed on its face suddenly, flesh contorting and folding around it. Maka let out a battle-cry that might have been a shriek of disgust and rotated the scythe just as the monster opened its mouth slightly, intending to chomp down on the handle. She hadn't even realized how much force it took to hold the monster in place as Soul was being held in the its jaws; swinging him away made her feel like she was a rubberband that had just been stretched and shot across a room. She ducked low and let the head of the scythe glide up, hitting the monster square in the temple. It staggered back, looking confused. She took the opportunity and slashed out, cutting through its plump midsection. Her arms jerked and the scythe stopped moving.

Maka blinked. The blade of her weapon was loged in the thing's side, unmoving. How could that be? It howled furiously and grabbed Soul, yanking him out like a thorn and taking Maka with him. She hung freely in the air, dangling by Souls handle. There was a snapping noise and Maka caught a glimpse of the wound she created, which was sparking and sizzling as it healed itself.

"He can regenerate," she whispered, eyes wide. The revelation was short lived however, as the monster grabbed her by the ankle and ripped her away from Soul. A sharp pain flew up her leg and knee as she was hurled non-too gently onto the car.

"Maka!" Soul shrieked. The monster threw him too, half transformed, in the opposite direction. He changed in midair, arms flailing wildly, only to land heavily several yards away. He didn't get up.

"Soul!" Maka tried to stand up, but the pain in her leg stopped her. She looked down and bit back a scream, bile rising in her throat. She would be on crutches for a while, no doubt. She wheezed and sank back to the ground, using the automobile for support. She shrank against the bumper as the monster tottered forward, eyeing her hungrily.

"You're annoying," it stated. "Just hold still so I can eat you."

"N-no," Maka protested, scooting up the hood of the automobile. She looked around desperately, trying to find something to protect herself with, _anything_. Soul was hurt; she had to get to him, make sure he was okay. They would get out. They _had_ to. The monster got ready to lunge and she scooted back farther, eyes never leaving the creature. She flinched suddenly as something poked her in the back.

Fullmetal.

There it was, the handle right within reach. She grabbed it and pulled. It came stretching out, the chains clinked as they fell onto her lap. She let out a howl and swung the heavy blade out, only to have her arm jarred painfully. Her voice caught in her throat. She turned shakily to the windshield; the blade was caught on the door frame.

So it was all over then.

"Oh, ohh!" the monster crooned, jumping up and down like a little child. The glint never left its eyes. "Lust says I'm supposed to eat that scythe!" It ambled to the automobile and grabbed the large scythe's handle. He ripped it through the door frame easily, Maka completely forgotten. She clung to the handle, not willing to give up without a fight.

"Let go!" she screamed, aiming a kick with her good leg. She got the monster in the nose, who let out a surprised squeal and dropped the scythe. Maka tumbled to the ground along with it. She cringed and bit back a cry as she landed on her bad leg.

She gasped in surprise as she felt the monster's large hand close painfully around her waist. She squirmed and tried to lift the old scythe, but his meaty fingers dug into her ribs, stopping her from doing much of anything.

"Skinny girl," the monster said thoughtfully. "You'll be stringy, but I'm _so hungry._" It grabbed Maka's right arm and tore her hand away from the scythe, bending it back painfully.

"No, don't!" Maka cried, trying to pull free. Any further and her arm would dislocate. "Stop it! Stop! STOP!" She screamed bloody murder, voice jumping up several octaves as her arm was bent back in ways it wasn't supposed to go. Bone ground against bone in her shoulder. There was pain from her shoulder blade to her elbow; the rest had gone numb. There was fire in her left hand, in the one that was still holding Fullmetal. Her legs wouldn't move and white lights danced across her vision, even though her eyes were screwed shut. Then, just as she was sure her arm would break, the pressure was suddenly gone. Her arm fell to the ground with a thump. She pushed herself up slightly, craning her neck to see what had happened.

There was a chain wrapped around the monster's face. Its fat hands scrabbled at the chain and it's mouth was agape, tongue lolling and teeth snapping. It was dragged back, away from Maka, and flicked away like a bug. The monster landed several yards away, thankfully nowhere near Soul. Maka sat up fully, careful of her leg.

"W-who...?" Maka looked around, trying to find the meister responsible for her rescue. There was no one in sight. "What? B-but how?" She looked left, then right, tried to see around the automobile, but there was nobody around. Her eyes fell to the chains, which lay innocently in front of her. She followed them, looking for their source. Her eyes fell to the scythe in her left hand.

She was suddenly very aware of how hot the iron scythe was under her touch. She yelped and pulled away. Clutching her smoldering hand to her chest. She peered down at it and was surprised to find that there were no burns; her white glove was only a bit singed, despite the heat.

Maka looked over to Soul. He was still unconscious and probably sporting a broken arm, from the look of it. Well, at least they could be cast buddies. She looked back down at Fullmetal and ran her hand over the handle gently. Little blue sparks jumped from her fingertips. She didn't flinch though.

"You saved me?" she asked the scythe wonderingly. It only lay at her side in response. There was an unhappy groan in the direction that the monster fell. Maka turned around, looking for the thing that almost killed her. It was sitting up a ways away, looking rather lost and confused. It scratched its head, stood up, and noticed her staring at it.

"Maybe you could save me again?" she offered the scythe shakily, grabbing the handle. It hissed under her hand, but she ignored it. The monster ambled toward her, picking up speed. Maka grabbed Fullmetal with both hands, dragging it in front of her to semble some sort of defensive stance. The handle sparked and hissed. The entire weapon hummed and pulsed. Whoever had been sleeping inside the weapon was stirring, soul rife with pent up energy. Maka pushed for resonance, focusing past the hex and to the soul sleeping underneath it.

Maka focused, ignoring the hungry thing hanging in the air above her, searching for a spark, a connection, _something._

She was on her feet. The iron blad was over her head. There was a spray of red and then the monster was behind her in two pieces.

_What?_

Where did that power come from? Her leg throbbed angrily, yet she was able to stand on it. The scythe was still heavy in her hands but she was able to swing it around like it was a featherweight. There was a snapping and crackling behind her. She turned to find the two pieces of monster disintegrating and reforming. She tried to take a step back, but found her legs paralyzed in place. It wasn't fear that kept her there, she knew. She looked down and found the chains were winding around her legs, flattening into what looked like metal shin guards. They were coiling around her wrists and flattening over her hands, binding them to the scythe's handle.

She let out a surprised shout and tried to let go of the scythe, but it was stuck in her hands. She felt the fragile connection she had with the soul dissipate; the resonance shattered. Her leg was suddenly feeling far more broken than it had a moment ago and was buckling underneath her. Her hands were aflame, still locked around the scythe in a death grip. The chains seemed to constrict around her and lose form.

"No, no, no!" She struggled desperately. "Let me go!" She tried to bend forward to stretch the links, stay on her feet. The handle sizzled painfully.

_Trust._

"W-what?" she stopped squirming, looking around with terror. The monster was almost done forming.

_Trust._ The voice echoed in her head. The weapon vibrated.

"Trust you?" she asked breathily, looking at the scythe. She looked over at Soul, then to the monster. Its flesh was forming on its face. "I can do that."

Maka calmed down and searched for the soul she had linked with. It latched back onto her almost greedily.

She could have sworn she heard a soft chuckle from somewhere deep within the weapon, but it was lost to her as she felt a surge of power from within her. Her broken leg simply went numb and Fullmetal's handle cooled. She relaxed into the chains-turned-to-armor, letting them take her weight. They creaked softly but held. Her body shifted on its own accord. Fullmetal intended to fight through her, she realized. The power she felt was his soul manifesting through her's.

"Amazing," she whispered. The weapon seemed to ring in response as it rose into the air. The dark steel blade caught the red sunset and glinted vibrantly. For whatever reason, the look of it pleased Maka greatly. She eyed the monster, suddenly feeling far calmer. The last of its skin grew over the muscle. It eyed her warily, taking several steps back.

"I'm going to eat you," the monster whined as he shifted from foot to foot, looking uncertain. Maka shifted into a fighting stance. Her leg protested, pins and needles shooting up the length of it. Fullmetal seemed to sense this and shifted more of her weight to the other leg.

There was a split second as the monster came upon her again, but this time she was ready for it.

It was intriguing to watch. Her arms swung the scythe in a graceful twirl, the kind that would make a color guard flagger jealous. There was no rebound when the blade hit the monster full on; the chains took the brunt of every blow. It was like a dream; her body was still her's she could feel what it was doing, but she was just watching the motions. Everything was in slowmotion and sped up at the same time. She noticed all the little details she never got to notice while fighting. The way that the world looked around her while backflipping, the expression of her opponent mid-strike...the list went on. Each time Fullmetal landed a hit, though, the monster still regenerated.

Good thing it wasn't as persistant as she had first thought.

Its strikes became more halfhearted and it began to move more slowly and with less fervor. This was all well and good with Maka, who found herself growing more and more tired, despite hardly doing anything.

_Only two people could handle such a powerful soul..._

Right. Maka wasn't one of those two people, was she? She wondered how long she would last; how long it had been.

They were hardly resonating, her and Fullmetal. She had just accepted him and he was devouring her because of it. She wondered what it would be like to see Fullmetal and his original meister in action. She closed her eyes.

-_shlunck_-

The soul of Fullmetal and a soul powerful enough to control it could probably move mountains.

-_shinngg_-

Powerful enough to kill witches without Witch Hunter.

"AAEEEIIIIII!"

Powerful enough to kill a monster.

It squirmed and writhed on the ground, body hissing and fizzing. A new wound was on its stomach that was bubbling and sizzling as it tried to heal. The wound stayed open and fresh and dark, murky blood poured out of it lazily. The creature staggered to its feet and whined pitifully. It turned tail and staggered off into the sunset, a trail of blood, snapping and crackling with red sparks of light, in its wake.

"Could I have my body back?" Maka asked. She sighed softly as she regained control of herself. The armor turned back into chains and fell around her. The wild soul inside went silent.

Maka pulled a little compact mirror from an inside pocket of her coat; one she always kept handy, just in case. Bleary eyed, she dialed Death's number. Her vision swam and the world bled around her. The next thing she knew the ground was in front of her face. The grass was cool on her cheek.

"Maka?"

_Oh, there's Papa. I had better tell him we got the scythe before he throws a fit._

"Maka!"

_Right._

"Answer me, damnit! Maka! MAKA!"

* * *

**Okay. So this was going to just be a one-shot, but it's getting to be a bit long. I mean, not that any story that happens to be 9,000+ words is _bad_ or anything, just long. Plus, I feel that if I stared the next bit after this, the story would simply become somewhat tiring to read. So many line-breaks and time-skips - it's exhausting.**

**That said, I'm going to make this a two-shot instead. **

**~Maddy**


	2. Breakable

**And so begins part two. **

**Unclaimer: Maddy still owns and gains nothing.**

* * *

"Why the hell would you send my daughter - or any child, for that matter, after such a powerful weapon?" He learned what the weapon, Fullmetal, could do.

"There is a good reason, Spirit. You must calm down."

"Yeah? Then what _is_ the reason, if you don't mind my asking, Death?" There was fire in the man's eyes.

"I will tell you, Spirit. We are in my Death Room, there are no snakes here. But you must understand; this is completely confidential. From one father to another."

"...Alright."

"Eibon's real name was Van Hoenheim of Light."

"What? What does that-"

"Hush. He had two sons, one of which was Fullmetal. That explains how Fullmetal could have lasted so long in his weapon form; any normal mortal's soul would have faded to nothing ages ago. But with the inherited power of the Alchemist Eibon..." Death paused, thoughtful, reminiscing. "Fullmetal's power was virtually uncontrollable, however. There were only two people with souls powerful enough to handle him; his brother, who was his original meister, and myself."

"How could something like that..." he realized something, then. "Why are you bringing such a dangerous object to Shibusen, Lord Death?"

"Fullmetal is volatile, Spirit. He has remained dormant for so long that his corruption is almost inevitable. Madness is spreading. It has woken monsters and ancient witches who have slept for hundreds of years. Would it not do the same to a weapon? How would someone so unpredictable react? It has been 800 years since the lifetime he knows has ended; his brother and comrades are dead. While Fullmetal has great power, his weakness lies in his loved ones. If he were to awaken, that volatile soul of his would rot and go mad. That is why I have instructed Maka and her weapon to retrieve him. If he does wake up, if he goes mad, then I will destroy him and remove the threat he poses from existence."

"But why Maka? Stein's soul would be able to handle such a threat. So would I! We could have-" Death interrupted.

"Your daughter, Maka Albarn, has a very powerful soul, no?"

"Of course! She's her father's daughter! But-"

"Indeed, Spirit! But your daughter's soul is special; more special than Professor Stein's, even. It retains many of the qualities that the soul of Fullmetal's brother had; and even greater power beyond that. So you see, I selected your daughter specifically for this mission because if anything where to go wrong with Fullmetal, your daughter is probably one of the only people in the world who might be able to keep him under control. Do you understand?"

"...Yes."

"Very good. Now, please send for Professor Stein and give him the details of Maka and Soul's mission up until now. He will go and retrieve them."

"Yes sir." a pause. "Lord Death?"

"You need to stay here Spirit. Leave your daughter's protection to Stein."

"...Right."

* * *

_Breakable_

One week passed.

Then two.

Soul decided he would slap his partner awake if she decided to sleep for three.

Word of their misadventure in Germany was all over the school now; about half the student body (mostly the lower class-men) were convinced that Maka Albarn, top student at the DWMA, was dead underground.

Soul did his very best to ignore them.

He also did his best to ignore the pitying looks he got from everyone he walked past.

_I heard his partner was killed in action._

_No, she's still alive, just in a coma she's never gonna wake up from._

_How sad..._

_Poor bastard..._

_Glad I'm not in his shoes..._

And so forth.

People wondered about the weapon they brought back with them. Death was about as silent as death could be about the matter, though students said that upon visiting the Death Room, they saw the age-old scythe resting against Death's mirror.

If he was keeping it that close, it had to be a big deal, right?

'Course.

Franz had told him not to worry. The old man had smiled, looking morbidly positive for someone with a bandage around their head and cuts everywhere, and assured him that whatever had happened while the two of them were unconscious, they both did what they could and that Maka was a strong girl. She could pull out of whatever that death scythe did to her.

What the hell _did_ that death scythe do to her? Professor Stein said that when he and the rep found them, the scythe was in Maka's hand, while Soul had been sprawled out several yards away from the apparent scene of the initial fight. The ancient weapon's chains had been spread around her, some coiled loosely around her arms while one was wound tight around her left leg, which was broken. Upon removing the chains, Stein had found her tibia snapped in two, bone jutting out of her skin. The situation wasn't looking very good for Fullmetal, to say the least.

Soul visited Maka every day. He pestered Nygus all the time, desperate to know when his friend would wake up, but she would only lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and tell him to have patience.

He wanted to. He really did.

He could only hold out for so long though.

It was difficult, sitting around and doing nothing. All he could do was sit next to her sleeping form and hold her hand. Occasionally, when Nygus was away and everyone else who came to visit had left the campus, Soul would sneak a guitar from the music rooms and pluck some notes for her. He couldn't play the guitar like he could play piano, and the sling keeping his arm from being jarred about and bothering his healing collarbone hindered him greatly, but the guitar was easier to move from one room to the other. Plus, it gave him something to do aside from worry or feel sorry for himself; both got him nowhere but into the pits of depression and insanity very quickly.

At the apartment he would violently pound into the keys of his electric keyboard and urge low, ugly sounds to come singing from its old speakers. He only used his right hand, the one that wasn't immobile, and did his best to take his mind off of the ache in his shoulder and his comatose partner.

Black Star came over to pester him regularly, along with Tsubaki. Usually the gentle Dark Arm weapon brought along a nice assortment of snacks for the boys to eat, which was always a nice change from the leftovers and slices of plain bread Soul was currently living off of. (He just didn't have it in him to cook, then there was his arm and the bloody sling...) Kid and the Thompson sisters didn't come over quite as much, but when they did it was quite a bit more relaxing than when Black Star was rampaging about. Liz, Kid and Soul would all sit in the small living-room and talk about trivial things while Patty played on the carpet. Eventually the conversation would fizzle out and they would all sit in a comforting silence, Patty's soft squeals and giggles the only disturbance in the quiet. To be honest, it was sort of nice - homely even. Soul just wished that Maka was leaning against him on their little couch and smiling contently along with everyone else. Even Blair had lost some of her pep with the young meister's absence.

It was around 2 AM during Maka's third week that Soul got a call from Nygus. She wasn't awake, but she was certainly more active than she had been since they arrived back at the academy. Nygus wanted him there with her in case she woke up.

Soul wasted no time; the phone was left hanging by the chord and he didn't bother putting on the pants that he grabbed off of the couch until he was in Maka's room in the infirmary. Shoes were trivial and unimportant.

Nygus gave him a bemused look but said nothing, instead making room for him to get to Maka's bed. She was paler looking in the washed out light and a sheen of sweat coated her skin. Instead of the peaceful look she wore in her slumber, her brow was furrowed and a small frown twisted at her thin lips. Her lashes fluttered and her head turned to the side, then back again. She let out a small whimper.

"What's wrong with her?" Soul demanded, good hand hovering above his meister's form, wanting to shake her awake and sooth back into a peaceful sleep at the same time. He settled with taking her hand in his. His heart fluttered with hope when her slender fingers wrapped tight around his, then he was trying not to flinch when her grip tightened to the point where his hand began hurting.

"All of her vitals are fine, aside from a slightly increased heart-rate," Nygus informed him. "I've also upped her dose of painkillers a bit to make sure she's comfortable." There was a sharp nock on the door, then Spirit Albarn was entering the room, demanding to know how Maka was. Professor Stein followed him in at a slower pace; he was noticeably less worried, though his lips were pressed together into a grim line of anticipation.

"What's happening, Nygus?" Spirit was even more demanding than Soul had been. He loomed over the teens and fixed his cold blue stare on his daughter's scrunched up face. The man's trembling hand touched her forehead gently, only to pull back quickly, like he had been burned. "Nygus, she's burning up! Aren't you taking care of her?" The man rounded on the nurse, who managed to remain calm. Before Spirit could say any more, Stein cut between them and placed his own steady hand on her head. It slid down to the pulse on her neck, where it remained for a moment.

"Calm down, Spirit. It's just a dream, from the looks of it. She's fine."

"Then why is she so hot?"

"You've been pacing around outside in the cold for the past hour and a half. Your hand's are freezing and her forehead is it's normal temperature," Stein gave his former meister a somewhat exasperated look. Spirit looked flustered and seemed to bite back some sort of retort. Instead he turned to Nygus.

"My apologies, Nurse Nygus," he said stiffly. She shook her head gently, understanding in her ice blue eyes.

"I would be worried too," she told him. He nodded and looked back down at his daughter. Then over to Soul.

"You watch her closely, boy. Understand?" he growled out. Soul nodded his head in surprise.

"Yes, sir," he replied, steeling up. Satisfied, Spirit Albarn turned back to Nygus.

"Lets go into the hall and you can tell me how she's been doing," he said, motioning toward the door. Nygus nodded and followed the Death Scythe out, leaving Stein, Soul, and Maka in the room. Stein walked over to the small desk by the bed and grabbed a swivel chair, settling down in it on the other side of Maka's bed.

"I'd take this as a good sign," he said, watching Maka squirm in her sleep. Soul clutched her hand a bit tighter, watching her as well.

"You think?" Soul asked. He didn't want to put all his hope into her having a dream, but at the same time, he wanted nothing more than his partner to be out in the world again; not sleeping her life away in a hospital bed.

"Of course. Maka may not be the strongest physically, there's proof enough in the fact that she's been unconscious for three plus weeks after using the Fullmetal, but she's strong willed. And strong spirited," Professor Stein looked over at Soul, his grey-green eyes didn't hold much emotion, just some sort of deep understanding that went beyond the situation. "You of all people should know that."

"I guess so," Soul said, smiling a bit. "She'll come out of it. She's too stubborn to stay sleeping her whole life." Stein didn't say anything else, only offering a small smile. They sat in silence for a few minutes more before Spirit and Nygus reentered the room. Stein stood up and turned the screw in his head a few times.

"What now?" he asked, looking between the Death Scythe and nurse. Soul watched them too, wondering whether he would have to leave or not.

"Yeah," Lord Death said, making everyone jump. "What's up? How's Maka?" Everyone turned to the medicine cabinet with glass doors. Death's reflection stood within the glass, waving at his surprised staff and giving a wink and thumbs up to Soul, who had by then recovered and hung his head in exasperation.

"Ah, she's a lot more active than she has been, sir," Spirit spoke up, adjusting his tie a bit. "She isn't awake, but she seems...less comatose than before." He scratched his head at that, not really knowing a better way to describe the situation.

"Hmm... That sure is peculiar," Death said, peering at Maka. Everyone gave him questioning looks.

"We thought it was a good thing, Lord Death," Spirit said. "What is it?"

"Oh nothing really," Death waved a giant hand dismissively. "It's just that Fullmetal also seems to be stirring a bit as we speak. Odd that it would happen now, of all times." His mask skewed to the side, looking as curious as a mask could possibly look. Everyone in the room, save for the comatose Maka, stiffened at the news. Soul stood, though he didn't let go of Maka's hand. Spirit looked torn between staying with his daughter and rushing to the Death Room. Nygus was stiff, cool eyes never leaving Lord Death. Stein looked impassive. (It only occurred to Soul later that he probably knew already, thanks to his Soul Perception.)

"What do you want us to do, Lord Death?" Spirit asked, looking visibly disturbed. Death shrugged.

"Nothing, I guess. Unless you want to come up here and stare at my old Fullmetal." Soul sneered. Who even gave two shits about that stupid weapon anyway? It was dangerous and had threatened the life of his partner. It hardly even seemed worth the time. Sleeping soul be damned; that scythe needed to be melted down into silverware, in his opinion.

"...Alright. Come on Stein, we had better go make sure nothing happens," Spirit gave Maka one last longing look before steeling himself and leaving the room. "Nygus, call Sid and Marie and notify them of the situation. Better safe than sorry." He murmured the last part more to himself than anyone. Soul got the feeling he was already sorry. Nygus nodded and quickly exited the room into the small office where she kept all student files. Stein gave Soul a glance.

"You coming?" he asked. "Nygus will look after her, if you want to come up as well."

"Why the hell would I want to be anywhere near that thing?" Soul growled out. "I'll stay here."

Stein shrugged. "The more the merrier, I guess. Suit yourself." He turned and left without a backwards glance.

Soul settled himself down again and watched Maka. It was going to be a long night, he figured.

* * *

It was dark.

That was the first thing Maka noticed.

The second thing she noticed was that she was not alone.

Well, okay. Technically, she was alone. There was the very distinct thrumming of, well, _something -_ she wasn't sure what - coming from somewhere behind her, giving her the feeling of there being more than one physical presence in the void she found herself in.

She turned in the void where she floated, searching for whatever it was that was buzzing so monotonously in the warm darkness. She could feel a sultry glow, see it tinge her pale skin with yellow and gold, outline her pigtails as they floated lazily around her head. She twisted in a slow and graceless pirouette, craning her head up at the last moment to see the enormity of the source of the displaced white noise.

It was monstrous. Its eerie glow temporarily blinded her sensitive eyes upon facing it fully. She squinted up, shielding her eyes with a hand. It...it was...

...Oh.

It was that stupid hex.

It was vibrating and flickering like an obnoxious neon sign.

It was just as unbelievably lame as she remembered it being.

The sign itself seemed to be made of metal and was a bright yellow. It turned on it's side like a rhombus or diamond with a circle with a slash through it. In the center of the circle, over the slash, dark, bold letters it read 'NO TRESPASSING'.

"Seriously?" she deadpanned, looking around for something more. Zip. Not a thing. She looked back at the sign, feeling sort of pissed.

NO TRESPASSING, it told her.

"Well too damn bad," Maka retorted with a huff.

NO TRESPASSING, it warned.

Maka squeezed her hands into fists and tried to think about something else. Something that wasn't as hideously annoying as the obnoxious hex that hung in the air above her.

Wait a second.

If she found the hex, that ment she was connected to Fullmetal. There was obviously some sort of resonance, since she managed to find it. She looked around again, reached out as she did before, looking for that monster of a wavelength she had felt when they fought together as meister (more like puppet) and weapon.

"Fullmetal?" she called out, pressing her soul outward as she did so. "Come out! I want to talk!" She moved closer to the sign - its buzzing was about to drive her mad - and pounded on it. "Hellooooo?! Death Scythe Fullmetal? Your stupid 'No trespassing' sign is _lame_!"

_- Bang, bang, bang -_

"Stupid, ugly, witch's hex!"

- _Bang, bang, bang - _

_"_I hope you rust!"

- _BANG, BANG, **BANG** -_

"Oh my God,_ stop._"

Maka stopped, eyes wide, fist pulled back mid-swing. She turned around quickly, looking for the source of the voice.

"W-who's there? Fullmetal?"

"No, it's the sign - of course it's Fullmetal. Sheesh." He sounded extremely irritable. "What do you want?"

"Um, do you know how to break this hex?" Maka asked, suddenly feeling sort of embarrassed.

"If I _did_, I wouldn't be here right now, would I?"

Right.

"Where are you?"

"Well, where are _you?_"

"I'm in front of the sign."

"Guess that means I'm behind it." Oh, a smartass. Maka made a face.

"So..." the disembodied voice of the weapon drawled, "How'd you get here?" Good question.

"Beats me," Maka replied, turning to lean against the sign. "I just sort of woke up here."

"Huh, I just woke up here too...well, sorta." She imagined him shrugging. "There was this nasty fight... Say, you're not that soul from earlier are you?"

"What do you mean?" Was he talking about their encounter with that monster, or something from earlier, when he was sealed away?

"...I guess not." There was silence for a moment, aside from the mindless rattling and buzzing of the sign, which grew louder in the quiet.

"I'm Maka," Maka said by way of introduction.

"I guess you can call me Fullmetal," Fullmetal replied in a monotonous voice. "But you already knew to that, didn't you, Maka?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

"Lord Death told me about you."

"Lord Death?"

"...Yes?"

"_The_ Lord Death? Like, the Grim Reaper, keeper of mortal souls, Lord Death?"

"Yes, jeez who else would I be talking about?"

"How's a brat like you know about a guy like him?"

"I'm a scythe meister in training at the DWMA. I work for Death, in a sense."

He was quiet for a bit after that. Just when she thought she had scared him away, he replied:

"The fuck is the DWMA?" Maka snorted back a laugh.

"That's all you want to know?" she giggled, "It's the Death Weapon Meister Academy, where young weapons and meister go to train for fighting madness."

"What is so funny?" he demanded, sounding miffed.

"I'm just a kid, randomly here in your weird little hex-ridden mind void, claiming to be a scythe master, claiming to know Lord Death and work for him, and all you care about is what the acronym DWMA stands for? That's pretty funny, if you ask me." She heard him sigh and mutter something that didn't sound very english.

"Do you think you can get me out of here?" Fullmetal asked suddenly, surprising Maka.

"I don't know how either." She wilted, feeling guilty and disappointed. "I wish I could."

"It's okay, I didn't expect a good answer." His voice was softer now. "Thanks anyway." She didn't say 'you're welcome'; she hadn't done a thing to help him.

She sat/floated in front of the sign for a while, Fullmetal on the other side somewhere, each in their own thoughts, souls flickering together. The sign droned on.

Maka watched the blackness swirl about her; dark, swooping tendrils of nothing flickered away from the bright light of the sign. Maka blinked; once, twice, three times to see if she was actually seeing movement, or if the light and dark was just playing tricks. She could here an odd clicking coming from the sign as it buzzed. When she paused in her thoughts to listen, though, it was gone.

"...Hey, Fullmetal?" she asked. No answer.

"Fullmetal?" She straightened to face the sign again, only to be blinded. Had it been that bright before? It was so bright her temples began to hurt. Her ears were ringing. She tried to look away, but found that she couldn't. She couldn't move either, she realized with a wave of panic. She floated in Fullmetal's void, paralyzed and unable to look away from the hex.

She choked on a scream and felt her body stiffen further. Her mouth gaped open, trying to suck in air. But it was to no avail. She felt lightheaded; weightless. The sign was glowing brighter than before; it was radiating heat now. She started seeing dark spots dance across her vision from lack of air. The darkness was suddenly overwhelming. The sign was shining a piercing white white and it was only getting brighter.

What was happening?

"H-help..." It was all Maka could choke out before blackness took her completely.

* * *

In stark contrast to the darkness she had just existed in, Maka's new surroundings were very white.

She was dizzy and her mouth was dry. Someone was clutching her upper arm too tightly; their hand was extremely hot on her sensitive skin. Objects kept swimming around in her vision; a mottled black something here, a wave of white there, a pale blue wall towered over her on one side, she later made it out to be a privacy curtain. Two bright red things where quite suddenly directly in front of her, blocking out the odd shapes that swam around.

Maka let out a groan of discomfort. Damn, did her head hurt.

"Soul, your'e smushing me," she complained, turning away from his face which was claustrophobicly close. As he moved back, the air around her cooled a bit and she took a deep breath, noting that she felt oddly winded. After she was certain that her body had enough oxygen, she turned to her partner and gave him a week smile. The worry in his eyes was painful to look at though. So was the sling on his left arm.

"Maka, are you alright? Was it a bad dream? Can I get you anything?" With each question Soul inched a bit closer and Maka couldn't help but smile, headache and thirst temporarily forgotten. Instead she reached up and wrapped her arm around Soul's right side, mindful to not touch his left. He stiffened for a moment, then melted into her embrace and hugged her back. Her free hand slid between them and found his left, their pinky fingers found one another and locked nice and tight.

She pulled back and he helped her sink into the soft pillow of her bed. Soul looked far calmer than he had moments before; there was only slight concern in his eyes now instead of the almost-panic that had been there before. (Soul was too cool to actually panic; thus, _almost._) They sat in silence for a moment as Maka studied her surroundings, which were actually quite familiar, as she and Soul and many of their other friends took frequent trips to the place. Normally though, she wasn't the one on the bed but the one next to the bed, teasing the unlucky patient about their loss in yet another pointless duel or bringing junk food and flowers and a wide assortment of notes and pointless time-killers to someone who wound up in too sticky of a situation... yeah, the infirmary was the first familiar setting she had seen in a while. It was a comforting sight, surprisingly.

"Maka," Soul started, getting her attention. "really, are you okay?"

She nodded, only to cringe slightly from the movement; her head was killing her, as was her throat.

"A bit thirsty..." her voice was rough as sandpaper and it killed her throat to talk. She made a face, though Soul didn't see it; he was already up and getting her a small paper cup filled with water. She gratefully took it from him and downed the whole thing in one go. Odd, she felt like she was experiencing déjà vu. Oh yeah, this had happened not all that long ago...

"Hey Soul?"

"Hm?"

"How long have I been asleep?" He looked over at her, taking his burgundy gaze away from the bleeding moon.

"Three weeks," he stated. Maka's eyes widened.

"Three...?"

"Yeah." How could she have been asleep for that long?

"I...I missed so much school," she gasped softly, horrified. That hadn't been part of the plan at all. She would have so much catching up to do... Soul looked incredulous.

"You've practically been in a coma for three weeks, Maka!" He shouted, surprising her. "Does that not even matter? I was so fucking worried." He walked back over to the bed and loomed over her, hurt and anger in his eyes. "I didn't know if you would wake up."

"Soul..." Maka sat up, trying to get out of bed, only to find her left leg wouldn't move. That was right; it had been broken it in that fight.

"If I hadn't changed when I did, things might have been different," he continued, staring at her hand, which clutched the bedsheets. "I fucked up and you could have died." Maka shook her head and gave him a sad smile.

"We were in over our heads; I don't think it would have made a difference," she told him, watching as his eyes widened. "The only reason I'm alive is because of Fullmetal. The only reason you're alive is because you were unconscious; because that thing threw you when it did and because you _were_ half-transformed. We lucked out." She laughed shakily, the weight of the situation suddenly hit like a freight train; they almost died. Soul looked shocked. He plopped down on the side of the bed, staring at her.

"Seriously?" Maka nodded sadly. "What the hell did that scythe _do to you_?"

"He saved me," Maka stated. "We resonated and he sort of...took over my body? I guess?" Soul looked confused, if not a bit horrified. "N-not in a bad way, or anything. He just used me to fight! All I had to do was hang on." She waved her hands quickly, trying to find a better way to describe the situation.

"Saved you? What about your leg? That scythe's chains were wrapped around it. Looks more like it tried and succeeded in snapping your leg practically in two."

"The monster did that; Fullmetal used the chains to keep my leg steady while we fought," she blinked thoughtfully. "He turned into armor and held me up. He didn't hurt me, I promise."

"That's...really messed up," Soul said, shaking his head. "But it sounds like if he hadn't helped out, we would have died, huh?" Maka nodded.

"Well, I definitely would have. Like I said, if you hadn't been chucked, we'd _both_ be dead," she smiled encouragingly. The whole situation was fucked up, as was her logic, but it was true and she was thankful it happened that way. Soul heaved a sigh and chuckled weakly, returning her smile with a small one of his own.

"Shit," he breathed. "I got an ulcer for nothing."

"I'm sorry, Soul," Maka said, reaching forward to touch his shoulder lightly, wincing at his sling. "I wish I had woken up sooner."

"Yeah, you have a crap ton of notes to catch up on, Miss Bookworm," Soul swatted her hand away playfully. "You and your damned grades." Maka laughed. It _was_ absurd, wasn't it?

"Well, obviously I'm not going anywhere any time soon; I've got time to catch up. I suppose I'll borrow Tsubaki's notes, unless you actually decided to not slack off for a change."

"Nope." Soul said, rolling his eyes. She had figured as much. Either way, Tsubaki's handwriting was easier to read than Soul's, so it was no real loss. The next several minutes were spent with Soul filling in Maka on all the happenings around the school until they were interrupted. Nygus was surprised at first, then was all business. She had come and gone quickly, giving Maka a swift once-over before seeming satisfied. She told them to stay put, then left in a breeze of icy blue eyes and pristine white bandages.

"What's going on?" Maka asked as the school nurse swept out of the room. Soul shook his head, sighing.

"Nothing spectacular, if you ask me," he replied. "Apparently Fullmetal's making a ruckus." Maka lurched, surprise and excitement on her face.

"He's awake?" she asked, squirming to get out of bed. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"- a dumb question, really -"Where's he being kept? We need to go up there and help him, Soul!" She had to grab her casted leg to move it over the edge of the bed. "I'm going to need crutches. Soul, do you see crutches anywhere?"

"...No."

"Soul I need help. So does Fullmetal." She gave him a defiant glare. He heaved a sigh.

"I really _do not_ trust that weapon, Maka," he groaned with resignation; she would get to Fullmetal with or without his help. Maka watched impatiently as her partner ambled into the nurse's office and come out moments later with a pair of crutches. She lit up and reached for them.

"Thank you, Soul!" Maka beamed. He just shook his head and helped her stand.

"It's in the Death Room," he informed her. She nodded, concentrating more on staying steady on her feet; Soul would take her to where they she needed to be. He was reluctant, but he was also loyal. The ice to her fire. Her weapon, her tool, her partner. It had obviously been a hard three weeks alone for Soul; she was relieved that he was helping so readily, despite his distrust toward Fullmetal. She hoped he would understand soon, though she was glad he trusted her judgement.

"Thank you, Soul." Their eyes met once she was situated with the crutches. He just smirked and shook his head.

"You're too bull-headed for me to stop anyway," he said. In any other situation, Maka might have given him a good jab with her new crutches, but for now, they had places to be, and she didn't doubt that she'd get another chance later on.

It took Maka a while to figure out the crutches, but once she had the hang of them, the duo went on the move. They reached the Death Room almost as quickly as usual, with only a few small mishaps along the way.

The two stumbled into the Death Room, Maka demanding to see Fullmetal while Soul panted at her side; she had sped up considerably when they reached the guillotine hallway. Maka's demands wehre ignored, however, when her father shrieked her name and promptly latched himself to her side, sobbing and apologizing and laughing with a panicked relief and generally being her annoying and far too doting Papa. She patted his head, which was buried into her side, arms wound tight around her waist, and gave his shoulder a tentative rub.

"I'm fine, Papa," she said gently, trying to smile but mostly grimacing. "Really, I'm okay, you can let go of me now."

"Ma-ma-maahh-ma-maah-MAAA-WAHHAHAHHH!" he broke down into more hysterical sobs and clung tighter. Maka heaved an irritable sigh and looked around the room, realizing that her father was not going anywhere any time soon.

"Hey there, Maka," Stein said when her eyes fell on him. "Welcome back." Marie stood with him, smiling from ear to ear and looking beyond relieved. She waved, but didn't say anything. Nygus rose an eyebrow at her and Soul, who had not stayed put as she instructed, but a smile shown in her eyes nonetheless. Sid, who was standing next to Nygus, gave her a nod. When her eyes found Death, he only gave her a wink and pointed to the center of the Death Room.

There he was; the Death Scythe that started this entire fiasco. Fullmetal lay in the center of the room, chains spread out around him haphazardly. Maka took a few steps forward, not minding her father or Soul, who was hovering close with uncertainty. Fullmetal's chains shifted around slowly, like coiled snakes, clinking softly while the weapon's entire form seemed to vibrate. The air around him thrummed.

"Maka," her father said, making her look down to where his face was buried in her side. He looked up at her seriously. "That weapon is too dangerous, stay away." Maka shook her head, reaching to remove his arms from her person.

"Sorry Papa, but I need to help him," she said, looking over to the weapon. Spirit looked a bit hurt, but said nothing as he let his arms fall, surprising her. Death gave Maka an approving nod and beckoned toward Fullmetal.

"What do you think, Scythe Meister Maka?" Death asked, pointing to the weapon.

"Um, well, we spoke, not long ago, I guess." Maka started with some confusion; who knew when they had their little dream conversation, anyway? "We were capable of resonating, despite the spell that's been put on him. He kept me and Soul safe and now he needs our help."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Maka blinked, wasn't Lord Death supposed to give orders and know what to do? Why ask a student?

"I wanted to try resonating with him again," she said. "Maybe I could break the seal from the inside." Death nodded approvingly.

"Good choice, Maka! You're a clever girl." Maka blushed and nodded.

"Thank you, sir," she replied, smiling. She hesitated then, not sure if she was supposed to resonate with Fullmetal right then or not.

"What are you waiting for?" Death asked, curious when she didn't move. Everyone seemed to be waiting for her to do something.

"Ah, didn't you want to resonate with him, Lord Death? He is your weapon..." she trailed off and blinked in surprise when Death laughed.

"Nope! It's all you, dear! I doubt that stubborn boy would listen to me anyway," Death waved his oversized hands around animatedly before shrugging. Maka nodded and swallowed. This went beyond the simple recognition of souls, she realized. There was no other reason for Death to not be the one to resonate with Fullmetal.

Why her, though?

She stepped forward, maneuvering her crutches so that they wouldn't bother the chains, which shifted away from her uneasily. She let go of one of the crutches, letting it fall, and moved down onto her knees in front of Fullmetal. She put the other crutch with the first and scooted up so that she could reach out and touch the weapon's handle. The other meisters and weapons moved closer to watch.

"Um, hi," Maka said to the weapon. A blush rose to her cheeks when the majority of the room's occupants shifted ever closer, watching intently. Only then did she realize that she was in her favorite pink pajamas. "Hey, Fullmetal? You awake?" She reached out over the weapon, noting that the air around him seemed to drop by several degrees. The space between her hand and Fullmetal's handle glowed an unhealthy yellow. Small yellow-green sparks jumped up at her hand, making her feel uneasy.

"Fullmetal...?" Maka ventured out with her hand, placing her fingers lightly on the handle. She gasped in surprise and pulled away quickly; it was so cold it stung. "What's going on with you?"

"What's wrong, Maka?" Soul asked, sitting down next to her. She thought for a moment, wondering what had caused the the weapon to change so dramatically. Something was wrong. She pushed out with her soul, searching for the link they had before, but it was to no avail. She got nothing but static and droning.

Static and droning.

The hex.

"Soul, could you change to your weapon form?" She asked, looking up at him. "I need to try something."

"You're going to do try to connect to him through Soul?" Stein asked, eyebrows raising. It was the same tactic she used to get to Chrona. While it could work, the results could be disastrous. If that hex had corrupted Fullmetal, Maka wasn't sure what would happen to her.

"Yeah; I don't think a regular resonance will work this time. I'll need a bit of assistance." She held out her hand and looked at Soul. He would be her safety line, just as he was before. Soul nodded and took her hand, transforming as he did so. She settled her weapon across her lap, holding him loosely in her left hand. She felt the familiar dip of insanity that sprinkled their resonance and, this time, instead of ignoring it, she dove in. Soul's piano roared through her soul and her perception was magnified ten-fold.

Maka grabbed Fullmetal.

First it burned, then it was cold, then her hand went numb. Her eyes slid closed and her leg, aching and casted, went numb. When she opened her eyes again, she was in that dark void from her dreams. The hex was looming over her when she turned around in the now icy blackness, pounding and vibrating and glowing for all it was worth. She cringed at its light, then scowled; it had grown to be about twice its original size.

"Do you see it, Soul?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "It's huge."

"I think it's hurting him."

"How?"

"I don't know, but his reaction to my touching him was different than before. Normally souls act the same when they react with a soul for the second time. He was hot to the touch and his aura was blue the first time. Now he's really cold and his aura was that weird yellow color."

"What do we do?" Soul questioned, his reflection formed on the blade of his scythe form, which she had brought with her into the void, somehow. She looked at him and smiled darkly.

"We destroy that stupid hex."

"Heh, I could have seen that one coming." He smirked back as his reflection disappeared. Maka shifted into a fighting stance and swung Soul backwards, propelling herself forward toward the sign. She growled and let a battle cry ring through the atmosphere as she landed a furious blow on the hex, leaving an ugly scar in its wake. She slashed at it again and again, determined to destroy the thing that was hurting her friend.

Well, he wasn't really a friend yet; he'd saved her life once and they'd had but one conversation. She didn't even know his real name, come to think of it.

But then, they had experienced each other's souls, he _did_ save her life, and he knew _her_ name. They'd had a (short, maybe rather irksome and impersonal) conversation, but it was in a _dream,_ no less, and faced some wild odds. Maybe they didn't know much about each other, maybe Fullmetal didn't even care about her, but they were connected. It was enough for her.

She hammered on.

They tried all they could think of. Soul Resonance, Witch Hunt, her anti-demon wavelength... Each hit left a new scar; each hit left the pair a bit more drained than before.

She didn't know how long it had been, but eventually their energy began to wane. Maka floated backwards, panting, sweating, and surveyed her damage. Long streaks of ruined metal peeled from the scrapes and scars that Soul's blade created. There was a solid dent, but it wasn't enough. The sign droned endlessly, rattling noisily, like an angry warning growl. Her ears were ringing again.

"Soul," Maka panted, "There's not a whole lot of time left." She glared up at the hex, which seemed to totter and flicker.

"What do you mean?" Soul asked.

"I think it knows we're here," Maka said, "and the only reason it hasn't gotten rid of us yet is because we've been attacking it." It was just a sign; it probably couldn't get rid of them and keep its guard up at the same time. Unless it was performing another, more strenuous job...

Maka had been wondering why Fullmetal was so quiet; the last time she made a ruckus he had snapped at her, hadn't he?

"We need to move," she said darkly. "Lets try Witch Hunt, one more time." Soul sensed the shift in her mood and hummed in agreement, blade sparking with the life of his soul.

Maka could feel him, feel their combined power coursing through her. Energy snapped and crackled around them wildly, a forcefield made of the essence of their souls lept out from Maka's form. There was a sort of beauty to it, and Maka tended to wonder if this feeling was what Soul felt when he ate a Kishin egg. He had said it wasn't the flavor, but the feeling. Her soul vibrated madly within her, rubbing against Soul's to milk as much power from him as possible. Her whole body tingled and she swore she could feel the particles in the air caress her skin. Soul's blade grew in her hands, a silvery-blue sheen swept over it as it elongated and arched. The whole blade was wrapped like a present in ethereal light; the gift itself was the pure, untamable energy of their souls. This one would do it, she was positive.

The blade pulled back over her head and swept forward, cutting the air and darkness and the hex and leaving nothing but light in its path.

The force of the blade hitting the hex jarred Maka's arms, tore at her shoulders and made her hands burn, but she forced the blade further down into the hex's center. She barely noticed her own screaming, hardly registered Soul's roars that seemed to harmonize with her's. All she could feel was her weapon in her hands, the fire lacing through her body, and the hex that would not give out.

Along with not hearing their battle cries, Maka also barely caught the sound of the metal sign giving way; it was a hushed, almost pained creaking sound that the material made as it bent under the force of their souls. There were soft snaps, barely audible over the droning and desperate rattling of the sign, that were made by the little fissures taking formation from the force of Soul's blade, which was sunk halfway into the monstrous sign, slowly cutting down towards the bottom. More light lept from each new crack, blinding Maka, who found her eyes glued to the dented, bullied hex.

They were close.

They were so damn close.

She had lost her mobility, and she realized it too late. Her throat closed and she choked violently on her on screams. She finally registered Soul's cries, now that they were absent.

Problem was, the stupid fucking hex just put itself into a deadlock. Even if she could move, she didn't have any intention of doing so.

It was just a bit further.

_Come on, Soul! Just a bit more..._

His soul thrummed with her's. Witch Hunt still drove wild, furious sparks into the hex. They weren't giving up.

Just a few more seconds.

But she craved air; she craved to move her body and stretch and arch her back and work the fire out of her viens. Soul's handle burned her hands and Witch Hunt blinded her further. She could sense it though, the damned hex was going to fall.

And it did.

It crackled and convulsed, seizing madly as Soul sliced it in half, propelled by the stored energy they had created in their temporary impasse. Light poured like waterfalls from the cracks as it split, then it shown with the same, warm golden light from before.

It shattered into a million and one pieces, each one shimmered and reflected the deep golden hues and sent them bouncing into the receding darkness.

Maka extended her soul, looking for the oppressed soul of Fullmetal's. He was free to come out now, after all.

It didn't take much to find him. She felt the familiar power wash over her and expand, making her feel lightheaded and thick as lead all at once. There was a mad crackling and whooshing from far away into the darkness, deep down in its core.

Maka's soul stretched out, searching, welcoming. The power pulsed around her, once, twice, then it was gone.

...What?

Maka blinked and everyone in the Death Room crowded around her. Soul was cradled in her lap. Fullmetal was in her hand; cool and unresponsive, just as they had first found him.

"F-fullmetal?" she stuttered, giving the weapon a gentle shake. The chains had stopped moving, she realized, and was she surprised to find that they were coiled around her, slithering up her arms and draping around her neck like necklaces. One had found its way around her broken leg and wound around her cast.

He knew.

_He knew. And he had been supporting her. Again._

_Where the fuck was he?_

"Fullmetal, wake up!" she let Soul fall from her lap and grabbed Fullmetal with both hands, shaking him violently. Soul transformed next to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

"That can't be it. It can't be," Maka whispered. She looked around the room at the other meisters, at Death, desperate for an answer. "We broke it. It's gone! That spell is gone now! So why...?" Her leg ached. So did her head.

"In due time, Maka," Death said. "It's a struggle for him, too."

"So you think he'll be able to change soon?" It was disappointing - no, it completely frustrating. Death nodded encouragingly and Maka felt her face form a very nasty sneer. "You ASSHOLE." she snarled at Fullmetal, making everyone jump. He did nothing in return, just sat in her palms and reflected her furious face back at her. Oh, what a waste of time the entire endeavor was. She missed three weeks of school, of her time that she could have been spending with her friends, of her _life_, unconscious in a hospital bed waiting for his comatose soul to stir so she could wake herself, only to be shot down, snuffed, dropped into a dumpster like yesterday's trash. Maka reached for her crutches and staggered to her feet. Soul and Spirit were both hovering nearby.

"C'mon Soul," she said, not looking his way. "I want to go home." She heard his feet (bare feet, strangely) follow her slow gait out of the Death room, through the Guillotine hallway and into the corridor. He didn't say anything the entire time, but she was okay with that; she needed some time to seethe and stew in her own personal pot of anger.

"Maka," Soul started after a while, when they were nearing the infirmary.

"What," Maka snapped. She heard him sigh.

"I didn't bring my bike and it's late. Why don't we stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Soul, I am very sure," Maka ground out.

"Yeah, alright, lets go home."

Damn straight they were going home.

Fuck Fullmetal.

Fuck school.

Fuck her leg.

Maka hadn't had a hot meal in three weeks, apparently, and she decided that some reheated left overs and a good book were what she needed to remedy her rage.

It wasn't until the next morning that Maka decided that maybe going home barefooted in her pajamas in the middle of the night wasn't such a good idea.

Fuck blisters.

Fuck colds.

Fuck Fullmetal.

Soul agreed wholeheartedly.

* * *

**Wow, _that_ ended on a sour note.**

**Also, I lied. _Oops._**

**~Maddy**


	3. I died once - Extra

**An alternative ending to Chapter 2**

* * *

He watched her from his place on the ground; angular, ochroid eyes never leaving her wide green ones.

Those eyes weren't the eyes of a human.

Predator's eyes.

There wasn't even madness there. He was beyond that; too far gone.

He was lying on his stomach, on top of his right arm - right, _metal_ arm. It was poking out on his left side, metallic fingers curled, relaxed. His shirtless back was covered in ugly scars, some came from where the metal met flesh. He sort of half turned onto his right side, peering up at Maka through his stringy, golden bangs.

He shifted, sitting up. His right arm fell slack; the metal scraped against the concrete of the Death Room, making Maka's teeth tingle and her spine prickle with unease. With disgust, _fear._

"I died once," he said as he stood, head cocking to the side. His voice was strong, steady, there were no insane lilts to it; no suggestion that he was anything _but_ sane, save for the words themselves. "It killed us." He shifted then seemed to lose his balance, taking several stumbling steps to the right, only to fall into the most animalistic fighting stance she had seen.

He had become a monster, she realized.

He was half-crouched, feet wide-set, arms slack, a heavy slouch, eyes watching. Watching _her._ Soul's hand left her's suddenly. For a split second she felt the fear rise up and away, out of her grasp, her rein, her control. For a moment she saw those golden predator's eyes in tunnel vision. Then Soul's arm was tight around her waist, pulling her close, shifting backwards, away from the threat. The others were moving too, she realized. There was synchronization happening around her. She could feel the shift of power, the give and take as souls bonded and grew.

Fullmetal noticed it too.

He sort of straightened for a moment, almost like prairie dog or meerkat watching for danger, then slouched back down, lower than before. His lips pulled back into a feral snarl, eyes flicking across the room at the meisters and weapons of Death's court.

Not a soul noticed the dark, old skull slinking up behind him on a shadowy tendril. Lord Death had been oddly quiet, no one noticed. Fullmetal's eyes glazed over for a moment and he stared at a spot on the floor blankly before suddenly lurching upright.

He turned and snarled, surprising everyone but Death as he located the skull, which was on top of him in an instant and sending him far across the Death Room.

"Oh, Fullmetal," Death sighed. He moved closer as the corrupted weapon staggered up. "It's a real shame that it has to be this way."

He fought back. Blades where coming from nowhere and electric blue light crackled about him as he lunged at Death. It only took a moment for him to be overpowered though, which Maka later found odd, then horribly, painfully sad. Fullmetal was slammed into the center of the Death Room, creating a small crater on impact. His soul flared violently for all to see; gold and livid, with intricate patterns and designs flowing and circling across it, never unmoving, always changing. There was black and red flickering around it's edges, just out of view. A powerful wind ripped at the walls and at the people inhabiting the Death Room. Lord Death's hand rose above Fullmetal, moving right into the heart of his corrupted soul.

Fullmetal's back arched and he let out a bone-rattling shriek, one that would frighten the Kishin into hiding. No one could look away as his soul was ripped from his person. It was sucked in towards Death's hand, compressing and collapsing on itself. He fought the whole time too; hands pounded into the floors and scrabbled for hold, head slammed backwards while feet kicked and spasmed.

The soul crackled madly in Death's hand. It warped and changed shape as it struggled to exist.

Then it was gone, and he was still.

There was a moment after his wild soul fizzled out where he was still conscious, still sort of aware. Those bright eyes filled with a wise light, with understanding. They fell on her again, briefly, before closing.

He lay in a crater, head in a halo of blood, hands outstretched to reach and grab nothing. It had been hopeless from the start.

He didn't look peaceful. He didn't look pained either. Just remote, resigned, maybe relieved.

She didn't notice her tears until her partner was gently wiping them away. She choked on a sob and pressed her face into his neck. His good arm wound around her further, pressing them together tightly.

Spirit walked over, a ghostly expression on his face, and wrapped his arms tightly around them both.

Nygus and Sid stood close together, taking comfort in each other's presence.

Stein watched the body curiously as Death gave it order; smoothed the hair, folded the hands gently over one another, straightened the legs... Marie took his hand in her's and let a few stray tears slide down her cheeks. If the Professor noticed, he didn't do anything about it.

The Death Scythe Fullmetal, birth name forgotten to history, was dead.

It was time everyone move on.

* * *

**EDIT:**

**Calm the fuck down this is NOT THE END OF THE STORY.**

**~ Maddy **


	4. Relive

**Unclaimer: Maddy only gains much hatred from her readers for posting sad mini-chapters. Nothing more.**

* * *

Everything was dark.

And loud.

And heavy.

And really hot.

It was terrible, and he wished for the numb, half-awareness that he had been swimming in for long moments before fading away, only to fade back again later on.

Then away.

Then back.

How long had it been since he had actually been _aware_?

He didn't know.

There was a soothing feeling at one point, like someone's soft hands cupped his face and whispered to him promises of the warm sun and cool grass and things that were better than the hollow void he found himself in. It was bittersweet like when his brother took his shoulder in his hand and with a sad smile, said, "We've failed before, but we're alive and we've always pulled through."

Who was his brother again?

What even _was_ a brother?

He recalled a dream he had where some young soul asked him for help. They had wings. He gave them armor. Everything was red and blurry and exhilarating.

No, that didn't actually happen though. A dream within a dream.

Nothing was real.

Yes.

That was right.

He was probably dead.

But the loud and the hot and _the pain_ and vibrations and that white, _white_ light that burned - oh how it absolutely _burned him -_ was there above him. It was real. And it had only burned so bright _after _he whispered "trust" to the soul as he steadied its wings, which crumbled under the weight of the darkness.

He had forgotten the feeling of protectiveness.

It was like fire. Good fire. Not the white burning pain he felt. It was instinct, it was emotion. It was not trying to destroy him.

No, he wasn't dead.

Where was he then?

It asked that. When the little bird returned, it asked him where he was.

What had they said?

What had they talked about?

He was behind _it_, right?

(He didn't know what _it_ was anymore, he didn't know _anything_ anymore, it was so _loud_...)

There was _so much noise_ after that. He recalled the sound of someone choking which was drowned out by the loud he was currently hearing. He loathed the pressure that did not let him help. (That held him fast in place while everything began to grow into his new hell.) Then whoever-it-was was gone, and he was left alone in the hot, the pain, the loud, and the heavy.

He decided that he wanted out.

He needed to find that person.

That...that person...

Who?

_Who was he again?_

It was really hot, and really loud, and too dark, and he felt like he was being crushed by something.

It hurt.

It really did.

Then it got worse. It increased.

He wailed, maybe. Possibly cried out for help, struggled to reach for - for what?

There, hanging above him, past the light, his little bird.

He remembered! This time it wasn't crumpled; it was burning in the good way that wasn't white hot and painful. He reached for it, attracted to its warm glow. It seemed to beckon him, invite him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it had been injured, wondered if it still needed him.

He decided yes.

Then the too dark suddenly became too bright and there was vibrating and clanging amongst the loud and painful droning that was crushing him and he _just wanted out_.

He was so tired.

Fragments of light fell around him.

So...tired...

...They glinted and reflected the burning white in a way that did not hurt.

He let go.

And floated through stars.

He slept.

After he struggled to reach for his bird.

It was too much.

She was gone anyway.

...She?

* * *

_Relive_

Maka celebrated graduating from a cast to a brace with a perfectly sliced piece of cake. Soul celebrated with three.

They lazed about on the left balcony of the fourth floor in the west wing of Death the Kid's prestigious and symmetrical mansion that he shared with the Thompson sisters and on occasion Death himself. Kid had made it very clear earlier in their mini celebration that they would hold a larger party for when Maka would be able to walk without any assistance. He had detailed to her all of his plans, and made sure that everyone was aware that _that_ party would be held on the balcony on the fourth floor of the _east_ wing.

"Even the events must be symmetrical," he had stated with an indignant huff, turning away from the crowd of bemused faces. "I will not have the balance of my perfect home be thrown off by the dissymmetry of holding a party on the same balcony as the last. It would ruin _everything_!" He had taken several very deep and shaky breaths after that and Liz stood trustily by his side and patted each shoulder eight times to calm him down, all the while Patty laughed till she was blue at her meister's silliness.

Maka might have found it odd that they were having a party for a person with a broken leg on the fourth floor of a mansion, but then again, it _was_ the result of the planning of an OCD death god. Each social event that happened would alternate wings (East to West, then North to South) and move up the floor levels in numerical order. It was the only way.

There was no other.

None.

_At all_.

Upon hearing this very detailed, long winded, generally boring and pointless explanation that was literally only important to one person, everyone heaved a collective sigh of exasperation.

"That's our Kid!" Liz said, a fake smile was plastered on her face to hide her own grimace. "Always _so_ orderly."

Everyone halfheartedly agreed, just to move things along; Kid's few temporary servants had set up a lovely buffet.

That chain of events led to Maka nibbling on a piece of overly sweet cake while lounging on an outdoor love-seat next to Soul, watching him inhale far more cake than necessary. Black Star was perched on the armrest next to Soul, Tsubaki was watching Liz in embarrassment from the table while Liz tried to convince a passing waiter to go out with her, Kid was fussing over the order of the fruit plate, Patty was stealing sticky-buns from under the table, and the waiter was trying to politely decline Liz's advances while still paying attention to Kid. Maka got the feeling that he was a new employee.

It had been about three weeks.

Three long, boring weeks, of which a good chunk of Maka's time had been spent focusing on waking up the Death Scythe Fullmetal, who was all but unresponsive. Maka had very quickly caught up with all of her school work, and stayed steadily on top of it so that every spare moment she had she could try resonating with the sleeping weapon. It wasn't like she could do any field work with her leg, and while Soul no longer needed a sling or a brace for his collar bone he still had some nasty bruising and really couldn't do much without his meister either way. For the time being, they stayed in Death City and focused on simply getting better.

Or in Maka's case, getting that damned Fullmetal to not play sleeping beauty for once.

As of yet, it appeared that her attempts were for naught. She no longer felt anything from the weapon. Not even a slight pull, a spark, or even a little pulse. It was like the soul inside had been burnt out, like it no longer really existed. Maka wondered what would happen to the weapon if that were the case. Would it turn into dust and dissolve away? Crumble to pieces in her hands? Simply remain in it's current form until someone decides to break it?

She didn't know.

She didn't want to give up, either.

But what if he really was dead?

What if the thing that had been keeping him alive had actually been that hex?

Oh Death, what if she had killed him? Maka put her cake down, suddenly feeling very lightheaded. Soul gave her a gentle nudge.

"Did you not want that?" He asked, peering at her.

"No," she stated.

"What's wrong with you?" Soul asked, she could hear the lightness in his voice. She thought she might throw up.

"I feel like we're wasting time; I should be trying to get Fullmetal out," Maka replied softly, not looking at him.

"It's not going anywhere, Maka," Soul said, sounding fairly nonchalant. "Just give it a break for a while and relax. You've been working too hard."

"Yeah! You've been so busy with that old piece of metal you haven't been paying any attention to me!" Black Star chimed in, leaning over Soul's head. "And I'm such a big star, too. It's unreal." He gave Maka a studying look, looking dead serious and very ridiculous at the same time. "Say, maybe you have been working too hard. You look really pale."

"Yeah, he's right," Soul agreed, leaning in really close to Maka's face. Black Star managed to situate himself over Soul's shoulder, giving him the illusion of having two heads.

"W-well..." Maka trailed off, not really wanting to voice the morbid conclusion she had come up with, but not really wanting to just lie and say she was sick.

"Come on now, guys. Let Maka alone so she can eat her cake in peace," Kid called over from the buffet table. "I would feel nauseous too if I had you two so close to my face." Black Star jumped up, leaping onto the armrest of the little white love-seat. Kid cringed a bit and eyed Black Star's muddy shoes.

"What was that, Kid? Don't think my face is amazing, do you?" He snorted, looking down at the young reaper with distate.

"Nope," Kid replied, looking up at Black Star, unimpressed. Patty jeered from under the table.

"Beat him to a pulp, Kid!" she squealed. Maka blinked, wondering how things had escalated so quickly. Soul snorted next to her.

"C'mon now, you ain't gonna take that, are you Black Star?" he asked nonchalantly, glancing up at the young assassin with a smirk. Black Star huffed angrily.

"No way in hell!" he shouted, throwing his fists in the air. "Tsubaki - chain scythe form, now!" He held his hands open, waiting and ready for his trusty weapon. She remained in her seat at the table, however, delicately sipping some peach tea. She glanced up at Black Star and gave him an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Black Star, but this is not the place nor time to be fighting. Wouldn't you agree Maka, Liz?" She turned to the two girls, looking for some support. Maka nodded vigorously and Liz shrugged.

"I don't mind some rough and tumble; makes the party more interesting." Liz stated. She turned to the confused waiter and whispered behind her hand, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Kid'd squash that little pest anyway." Patty giggled darkly from under the table.

"Squish pests, squish pests!" she chanted. Tsubaki sighed.

"You're not helping," she said sadly.

"I agree with Tsubaki," Kid proclaimed, ever serious. "This is a party for Maka and Soul, not a fighting ring."

"Aww, Kid, that's no fun. But I suppose we can't fight an unwilling participant." Soul shrugged, reaching for Maka's half eaten cake. "Settle down, Black Star, we can beat the crap outta that guy at school later." He smirked playfully at Kid, who rolled his eyes before smirking back.

"I wouldn't suggest it, but if you insist..." There was a wicked glint in his bright yellow eyes, which betrayed his current serious demeanor. Maka smiled slightly, glad for the familiar scene, even if the boys were picking fights with one another. It was all good fun. They were a team; they'd never intentionally harm one another. Maka morosely wondered what they would think of her thoughts on Fullmetal. She sighed and leaned back, tucking herself against Soul's side, wanting to disappear. Of course, if she did that, she'd never be able to help Fullmetal.

Soul shifted next to her, accommodating to their new position. He gave her a curious glance and while she hoped that her face was blank and did not portray anything, she must have had some sort of desolate expression on her face because Soul leaned his forehead against her's and gave her a small smile, not saying anything. His eyes spoke volumes though. She knew he would listen to her later on, first chance they got.

Her stomach dropped at the thought of Fullmetal being dead because of her, and the sudden feeling of a lack of air caused her to sigh again, though the feeling remained. She squirmed and buried her face in Soul's shoulder, wishing that the party could just end so she could go try to resonate with Fullmetal.

Black Star tried to peer at Maka's face, leaning in front of Soul to do so.

"What's your problem, Maka?" he was more or less lying in Soul's lap now, peering up at her. "You're acting all funny."

"Black Star, leave Maka alone, she's probably all worn out from working with the Fullmetal," Tsubaki chided. Maka gave a small nod.

"I guess I am a bit tired after all," she admitted. It wasn't really the truth, but then again, worry and stress and a broken leg were all very exhausting things.

"Perhaps we should end our festivities here then," suggested Kid, giving Maka a worried look. Liz sauntered up next to him and nodded, giving Maka a supportive smile.

"You do look pretty tuckered out," she said. Patty jumped up and nodded, spilling stolen sticky buns everywhere.

"Sis says that I should take a nap when I'm tuckered out!" she informed Maka. "Maybe you should do that! Right sis?" She turned to Liz, who patted her head.

"Maybe a bubble bath first," she suggested. Patty squealed.

"Could we have one of those tonight?! Could we?" she jumped up and down excitedly. Liz shrugged and nodded, causing Patty to shriek with delight and go running into the mansion, undoubtedly to go draw a bath. Tsubaki stood up, placing her tea cup on the table.

"In that case, why don't we head home, Black Star? I'll make us some rice balls when we get there." She smiled at Maka encouragingly while Black Star hopped off the love-seat and stretched lazily before following Tsubaki through the perfectly polished glass doors that lead off the balcony. He waved goodbye enthusiastically and Tsubaki bowed daintily.

"See ya, loseres!" he jeered as he sauntered off. "This lame party is too lame for someone as awesome as me."

"Black Star, be nice..." their voices echoed from the hallway as they left the room the balcony was connected to.

"...I had better go make sure Patty doesn't flood the bathroom," Liz said thoughtfully, like an afterthought. "Take it easy, Maka, okay?" She offered a fist to Maka, who bumped it haflheartedly in return. Soul gave her a bump next. Liz turned and left the balcony the same way Black Star and Tsubaki had left, hips swaying suggestively. She gave a graceful wave to the waiter, whose face turned a bright red, and glided away after her sister. "See you around." She called over her shoulder.

"Damn that Liz, acting in such an inappropriate manner at my parties," Kid grumbled, shaking his head. "Alright, why don't you pack up the food instead of staring at my weapon, hm?" He directed to the waiter. The young man jumped to attention and began grabbing empty plates to bring inside. His face was no longer red, though his ears were still bright pink.

"Guess we'll be heading out too then," Soul said, standing and taking Maka's hand, helping her up. "Want us to help?"

"No, no, it's alright." he glanced at the waiter, who was apparently doing something that was irksome to Kid. "I've more help than I need as it is." Soul laughed and gave Kid a light punch on the shoulder.

"Go easy on him, poor bastard," he laughed. "We'll see you later, Kid." Maka nodded and gave her friend a smile.

"Thanks for this, Kid. I appreciate it," she said, meaning every word. Kid gave her a kind smile in return.

"Anything for my friends," he said, giving her a small bow. "Now away with you, there are things to be done and a balcony to clean!" He ushered the two of them away, the tender moment gone. Maka laughed softly, obliging to Kid's requests. There was no need to have him even more stressed out than he was already, what with the world not being symmetrical and all.

As Maka and Soul walked down the stairs of the grand mansion, they heard Kid's voice, an octave higher than usual, panicing over something. There was a crashing sound, a shattering sound, an agonized wail, a scream to _shut the hell up you little shits_ that must have been from Patty, and moments later the waiter was running out of the mansion in a frenzy, blowing past the weapon-meister pair, shrieking "I QUIT, I QUIT!" at the top of his lungs.

"He didn't go easy on him."

"Not at all."

"No wonder there are so few staff at Death Manor."

"Yeah, no kidding."

"He was brave."

"Poor thing."

The pair walked in silence for a while, contemplating life in Death Manor with Kid and the Thompson sisters. A mutual agreement was made that life was most certainly better in their little apartment. Less hectic, no OCD death gods trying to give order to the chaos of their home made almost entirely of posters, cards, books, and vinyl records. Everything was the way they liked it; messy, familiar, and completely theirs.

Maka found herself sighing again.

"Alright, you've been sighing non-stop since you decided to not eat your cake," Soul said, turning to look at her while they walked. "Either you regret not eating it, or something's seriously on your mind."

"Soul what if I killed Fullmetal?" Maka blurted out, desperate to get the words out of her system and into the air. She watched Soul's reaction with wide eyes. Mostly, he looked surprised, then chuckled and sighed.

"Maka, you didn't kill him. That hex probably messed him up bad, and you're working to fix him," he eyed her expression. "He's fine. Just comatose. You didn't kill him, there's probably no way you _could_ kill him, and you're worrying over nothing."

"But hexes have great magical abilities," Maka argued. "What if that was what was keeping his soul in tact? What if, when we destroyed it, we ruined his soul and now he can never get out? What if he really _is_ nothing but an old weapon now?"

"Maka, you're overthinking this," Soul started, giving her a worried look as he stopped walking.

"No, I'm not!" Maka snapped.

"He was supposed to be infamously powerful. Does that not mean that he couldn't stand up to a hex that he's been standing up to for literally hundreds of years?" Soul was quick to counter her argument.

"But-"

"Maka, you're stressed and worried and being really impatient," Soul told her, looking her in the eye. "You're so persistant, but you got to step back now and then and look at the big picture or you'll never see what good you've done." He put his hands on her shoulders, "Just breathe for a minute and _think_."

Maka blinked at him, feeling hopeless. He gave her a look that said, _go on_. She sighed sadly and closed her eyes, focusing on his warm, heavy hands that all but enveloped her slim shoulders. His soul was calm, though she could feel little qualms of worry bubbling up here and there. Worry for her, no doubt. She was such an idiot. She _was_ unbelievably stressed, wasn't she? Always worrying about things that did not need worrying over, turning little things into huge problems... Yeah, she was overthinking the situation.

Thank Death she had Soul to keep her in line.

She opened her eyes, meeting Soul's.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied. There was a small shadow of doubt in the back of her mind, but she wouldn't have it. She needed to move forward with Fullmetal. With the way she had been thinking, of course they couldn't resonate. She had been trying too hard; when they first resonated, it had been desperation, pure instinct, and adrenaline that brought them together. Fullmetal had been woken by the wavelength of panic she sent out, not her pleas. He responded to action, not meditation.

Yes, action.

"Soul?" Maka began not long after they started walking again. He hummed in response. "Do you want to go bungie jumping tomorrow?"

"...What?"

* * *

Another few weeks past, another boring party was had, and Maka had exhausted every single action-oriented plan she could come up with.

She was still waiting for results.

There had been not a peep out of Fullmetal, and while it was frustrating, Maka knew better than to let herself be put down. She would find something to get him out, she knew it.

What if she had Black Star beat her half to death? Fullmetal had responded when her life was in actual danger... Yeah! That might have been the problem; she had bungie jumped, sky dived, cliff jumped, fought Kid in a reluctant duel on a roller-coaster (which she lost gracelessly after tripping over the track), ran around hacking Fullmetal into trees... the list went on. She tried to push her physical limits as much as possible, but the only thing she got out of it was very thick arm muscles, as Fullmetal weighed a ton.

Soul had reluctantly followed her around, whining about how she looked like a complete idiot and that she should try something that might actually _work_, but Maka paid him no mind. Fullmetal was different than most souls. She needed to find something that would catch his attention, something that would get past whatever barrier he had put up.

Something that was _real_.

It was a bit unfortunate that Fullmetal was not allowed to leave the DWMA, though. Maybe, just maybe, if she could get him out to do some real fighting, see some real action and fight real threats, she could ge him to finally wake up. She tried to explain to Lord Death, to Stein, her father, anyone who would listen to her. She needed to take Fullmetal out into the real world. He would be lost to them forever, otherwise. Death shook his head no, saying it was too big a risk; what if she lost him to a pre-kishin? The other responses to her pleas were all similar in nature.

All Maka could do was try to think of some alternative, but nothing would come to her. She decided to study soul resonance until she knew everything there was to know, from modern forms of resonance to the first souls to ever truly resonate. Maybe she would find something there.

In the meantime, Maka took up as many missions as possible. She and Soul burned through kishin eggs like they were dandelions under an industrial lawn mower; their schedule became mission after mission after mission when she was not studying. Maka had forgotten how great it was to be out on the field. Perhaps it was a bad thought, but the senseless violence of a fight cleared her head, put her back to the basics, made her realize that Fullmetal's goal had been _survive._ She paid more attention to how wildly her soul resonated with Soul's durning the peak of a battle. She watched closely, intrigued that their union grew stronger, if only for moments, when they were forced all the way to the edge of their limits. She pushed them. Soul went along out of curiosity and faith; she refused to let him down.

She refused to let Fullmetal down.

A month passed by hastily, each day spent with hard work. Maka blinked, then spring should have been looming over them. The signs of spring failed to come however. No trees began to bud with young leaves, flowers did not bloom with the few spring showers that the season brought. Nothing lived, or wanted to live. There was an anxious feeling in the winds, like the fear that the Kishin had instilled in the minds of everyone. The stiffness of the air made Maka's skin crawl with unease. It felt like death. Yes, death was in the air. Something was coming.

The disturbance was slowly growing closer, idling towards Death City like a cat after a mouse. Maka was suddenly very aware of the fact the monster that attacked them so long ago might still be out there; she never actually knew if it had been killed by Fullmetal or not. The sickly aura it had began to loom over Nevada put her and Death's meisters on edge.

"It's like something's crawling," Marie said with a shudder. Stein, who stood next to her, nodded. They were in the Death Room, along with Maka, Soul, Kid and Spirit. They stood around Death, looking grim and uncomfortable.

"The air tastes like rot," Death observed. The others nodded meekly. "I wonder what could be causing it? Perhaps you know, Maka?" Maka nodded.

"That thing that attacked us... It wanted Fullmetal. I don't think it was a kishin; in fact I'm positive it's not," She looked around at everyone. "I don't know what it is though."

"Some kind of witch-made thing?" Kid suggested. "That's what you said it might have been before, right?"

"I thought so," Maka mused. "I've never seen anything like it before, though."

"Hmm," Death mused, tapping his mask with one large finger. "Perhaps it's a homunculus. They're not really witch-made, but the people who used to make them used a similar form of magic."

"A homunculus?" Stein rose a thin eyebrow above his glasses. "There's been no record of one those existing for centuries."

"No, but with the awakening of the Kishin, I wouldn't be surprised if one that managed to survive was behind the attack. Odd though, here I was certain that Fullmetal and his meister had successfully rid the world of the seven sins." He shrugged. "Oh well, we've got Fullmetal, so there's not much to worry about."

"But I still haven't made any connection with him, Lord Death," Maka protested. "And what do you mean by 'seven sins'?"

"Ah, perhaps I should tell you the whole story, then." Death looked around the room. "What do you think, Professor Stein, Kid?"

"I've not found anything in the library, and I doubt Maka has either," Kid stated. "So I'd like to know just what it is we're up against, Father."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious," Stein drawled, a ghost of a smile danced at the corners of his lips. Marie shifted next to him, looking worried.

"Well, in that case, I'll explain who made the 'Seven Sins' to an extent, since they still seem to be a threat," Death seemed to shrink a bit, black body bending down low and close, like he was about to tell them all a rotten secret. "You see, it was actually a sort of relative of Fullmetal's that created the 'Sins' in the first place, which was one of the reasons why it was his and his meister's job to eradicate them."

"A sort of relative?" Marie asked, cocking her head to the side.

"I'm not 100% sure as to how this sort of relative came into being, since he really couldn't be called human either, but there he was, looking identical to Fullmetal's own father yet having no genetic resemblance whatsoever." Death shrugged. "Over the years he seemed to collect these interesting servants that were neither human nor which, kishin nor golem... Each one was named after one of the seven sins."

"These servants were the homunculi you mentioned, correct?" Kid asked, gold eyes ablaze with interest.

"Yes, Kid. It was Fullmetal's father, Hohenheim who discovered that they were homunculi. Turns out, the 'servants' were manufactured by a rather obscure and primitive science that none too many could still perform. I enlisted Fullmetal and his meister, who were an exceptional weapon/meister pair that actually understood the odd science, to remove the 'sins' and their creator from existence."

"And this science was..." Stein ventured, leaning in.

"Alchemy." Death said. Stein's eyebrows rose above his glasses. "Not quite the magic of witches, not quite the science of man, but still powerful nonetheless. You see, Hohenheim's twin was a lot like the kishin in that he wanted immortality. Only he had a better plan that utilized alchemy and the homunculi. Fullmetal, his meister, Hohenheim, and many other brave meister/weapon pairs managed to stop him. It was that final fight that killed Fullmetal's meister, and it was not long after that fight that Hohenheim disappeared."

"What was the plan, then?" Kid questioned.

"To use the science of alchemy to extract the souls of an entire country in order to gain the powers of a god," Death stated. "He almost succeeded too, but Fullmetal's meister sacrificed his own life to ensure that he wouldn't."

The room fell silent, soaking in the knew revelation.

"Do you remember his name, Lord Death?" Maka asked weakly.

"Alphonse Elric," Death replied. "I would never forget." Maka nodded, eyes fixed on the ground. Soul shifted closer to her.

"Anyway," Death chortled, straightening up. "Stein, since you're obviously familiar with the science I'd love it dearly if you'd start teaching the students about homunculi and the basics of alchemy. You can do that, right?"

"Of course," Stein said, turning the screw in his head a few times.

"Spirit, I need you and Marie to get some of our senior meister/weapon pairs together and put together some scouting units. We don't need any homunculi getting into Death City, now do we?" Death gave Spirit a wink.

"Yes, sir!" Spirit said, then blinked. "Ah, no, sir." Death chuckled.

"Maka, Kid, Soul, you all keep studying and do well in school." Death said, turning to the trio. "Maka, you and Soul will no longer be going on any missions, I'm afraid." Maka blanched.

"What? Why?!" She threw her hands in the air, stepping forward.

"Because the homunculi probably know your face," Death answered, shrugging. "Your soul's presence is imperative to waking Fullmetal's, so I'd like you to be alive. And Soul get's off the hook since he's your weapon."

"But _why_ is my soul so important to his? Why can't I fight too?" She was getting so close to understanding, how could Death make such an unwise decision?

"Maka, it's not a huge deal if we can't fight for a while," Soul said putting his hand on her shoulder. "We'll take it easy for a while and focus on studying the homunculi and alchemy. No biggie." Maka rounded on him angrily.

"Yes biggie, Soul," she snapped, making him recoil in surprise. Marie let out an audible gasp and Kid's eyes widened. She turned to Death. "What's so important about my soul, anyway? Why am I the only one working to wake up Fullmetal? He's _your_ Death Scythe, not _mine_!" Sure, it was more likely that she could wake him up because of their previous success resonating, but why was it _her_ soul that stirred his? Why wasn't Lord Death being more proactive in waking him?

"Maka, there's a good reason for it, just be patient," Spirit began uncertainly. He reached out to her, but she stepped back, away from everyone. "I'm sorry, Maka, we just didn't want to put even more pressure on you."

"Too late for that, Papa," Maka sneered. She turned to Death, looking for answers she knew her father would be reluctant to give. She took comfort in the fact that Stein, Marie and Kid all looked equally surprised; at least they weren't keeping secrets from her.

"Your soul, Maka, has many of the qualities that Alphonse Elric's soul had," Death told her, earning a surprised look from Spirit. "Our hope was that those specific qualities would resonate with Fullmetal and wake him up."

"So trick him into thinking I'm someone who's dead?" Maka spat, incredulous. "That's sick."

"Not trick him, just replicate the bond that he had with his brother."

"That's practically the same!" Maka shouted, frustration growing.

"It could never be the same, Maka. Their family bond was far stronger than normal because of the lives that they led. Alphonse's kind heart was all Fullmetal ever lived for," Death explained. "and I'm positive that your kind heart will be the key to waking him."

"But..." Maka looked around at her friends desperately, feeling the fire fade. "...How?"

"By doing what you've been doing this entire time," Stein spoke up and his grey-green eyes met her olive ones.

"Professor..." Maka looked at her teacher sadly.

"Please, continue to help my Fullmetal, Maka," Death said. "I know that the situation seems grim, and our tactic for waking him might not be what you had in mind, but when the time comes it will work. I only wish I could perform the task myself."

"Why is it that you can't resonate with him anymore, Father?" Kid wondered, gaining everyone's attention.

"I had no part in their family bond," Death swished his hands back and forth. "To be honest, Fullmetal didn't trust me as much as his father and brother did. He was a tough cookie."

Maka turned to Death's mirror. Fullmetal had been placed next to it. She walked forward and picked the old scythe up, its weight familiar in her hands.

"I'm going to wake him up, but I'm not going to trick him. There's got to be another way," she said, looking determined.

"Excellent!" Death sang, bouncing a little bit. "I still don't want you fighting, though. Understood?" Maka nodded reluctantly; he had a point. "Alrighty then, everyone's dismissed."

Kid walked over to Maka and put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a firm nod. She nodded in return before he turned and walked away. Soul stepped next to her, eyeing the scythe. Stein and Marie left the Death Room after Kid, leaving Maka, Soul, Spirit and Death the only one's remaining.

"Did you need something else, Maka?" Spirit asked.

"Lord Death, what's Fullmetal's name?" Maka questioned, looking squarely into the eye holes of Death's mask.

"Well, Fullmetal, of course," Death replied with a shrug.

"No, his birth name," Maka shook her head. "Nobody would name their child Fullmetal; I want to know what his friends and family called him." Death sighed.

"You're so persistent. I'll have to punish your father for it," Spirit gulped at that and cut a hand across his neck, silently begging Maka to drop the subject.

"Give him a Reaper-Chop then; I want to know," Maka insisted, undeterred. Her father whimpered from behind Death. Soul snickered under his breath.

"Alright, alright," Death said drooping a bit. "I'll tell you his name, but only because you're the one who has to wake him and knowing might help. It doesn't leave this room though, okay?" Maka nodded, leaning in close. Soul and Spirit did the same.

"His birth name was Edward Elric," Death told her. "Now don't tell anyone else, understand?"

"Yes sir! ...But why is it so important that nobody knows his real name?" Maka asked, confused.

"It adds to the mystery of Fullmetal!" Death chortled with a wink. "It was a personal preference of his, back in the day." Death chuckled to himself. "He said, '_Here's the deal, my brother and I will work for you, but don't use our real names. There's no reason for anyone else to know._' I agreed with him and kept that promise until today."

"That's... a really dumb reason, actually," Maka said, feeling like she had been let down just a bit. Death shrugged.

"I'm sure Fullmetal had a good reason for it," he said. "Now get going, there's much to be done." Death shooed Soul and Maka to the exit and waved goodbye as they made their way down the guillotine hallway.

"Lord Death?" Spirit asked when the kids where out of earshot.

"Hm?" Death replied, turning to his scythe.

"There's more to it than that, isn't there?"

"There is." It was a statement. A fact.

"My daughter's not in danger, is she?"

"Not in any more now than before."

"...What is the real reason?"

"Names can be cursed, Spirit. Fullmetal was wanted by witches and homunculi alike. No one was allowed to know for their safety."

"Did someone learn?"

"That monster with my friend's body learned. Good thing it was secretive by nature." Death sighed. "There was so much death that day, Spirit. So many good people, lost forever."

They stood in silence for a while. Then Spirit excused himself; there was work to be done.

* * *

**This chapter is shorter.**

**This is so upsetting.**

**To be fair, I could have put the climax in this chapter and just ended it here like I had originally planned, but it would have been over 10,000 words long and it would have dragged out and that would have been no fun for anyone. That said, this and the last chapter (WHICH WILL BE THE NEXT CHAPTER I PROMISE) are going to be a tad shorter than the first two.**

**I doubt anyone but me actually cares about that fact. But w/e.**

**~Maddy**


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